THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

Rare  Book  Room 
GIFT  OF 

John  W,  Beckman 


Frontispiece. 


Under  the  Pear-tree. 


UNDER  THE  PEAR  TREE : 


OB, 


BY 

AUNT    FRIENDLY 


LET  PATIENCE  HAVE  HER  PERFECT  WORK. 


NEW  YORK: 

ANSON    D,    F.    RANDOLPH, 

No.  683  BROADWAY. 
1862 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862, 

BY  ANSON  D.  F.  EANDOLPH, 

lu  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States 
for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


EDWAED  O.   JENKINS, 

printer  anli  Stereotgper, 
No.  20  NORTH  WILLIAM  ST. 


CONTENTS. 


/PAGK 

I. — THE  OLD-FASHIONED  GARDEN 7 

II.— NEWS 16 

III.— THE  VISITORS 29 

IV. — SOUTH  AMERICA 38 

V. OVERTURNINGS 48 

VI.— THE  LITTLE  HEATHEN    84 

VII. — THE  WOODS 81 

VIII.— SICKNESS 93 

IX.— MORNING  LIGHT 102 

X. — HAND  IN  HAND 106 

XL— RACHE 113 

XII.— A  DECISION 124 

XIII.— CONCLUSION  ..  .  130 


fittk  ttatttt. 


WE  write  not  now  of  little  crosses, 

Which,  wreathed  with  flowers,  in  churchyards  stand, 
To  tell  of  mothers'  bitter  losses, 

And  little  saints  in  "  Better  Land." 

Nor  dwell  we  on  those  crosses  olden, 

Whereon  the  infant  martyrs  died, 
When  meekly  soft,  small  hands  were  holden, 

Like  Jesus  to  be  crucified. 

Nay,  ours  is  but  a  simple  story 

Of  Christian  life  in  childhood's  morn, 
When  Jesus  trains  the  heir  of  glory, 

Through  daily  trials  rightly  borne. 

Each  little  burden  he  will  measure, 

He  knows  what  weight  each  lamb  can  bear ; 

He  plans  each  tiny  grief  and  pleasure, 
With  his  own  loving,  tender  care. 

1*  (5) 


UNDER  THE  PEAR  TREE. 


i. 


trees  and  currant  bushes,  lilac 
and  mock  orange,  blush  roses  and 
^^  damask,  there  they  all  were,  as  green 
and  flourishing  as  in  dear  old  Mrs.  Eaton's 
time,  when  her  garden  was  the  pride  of  her 
heart.  She,  good  lady,  had  gone  to  her 
rest,  but  the  trees  she  had  planted  and  the 
flowers  she  had  nursed  were  of  her  a  per 
petual  emblem  and  memorial.  Freely  each 
year  they  gave  their  fruit  and  fragrance, 
then  sank  into  seeming  death,  a  death, 
which,  like  hers,  was  but  the  sure  forerun 
ner  of  a  glad  resurrection. 

Mrs.  Eaton  no  longer  walked  up  and 

CO 


8  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

down  the  broad  path  between  the  straight 
"  borders  "  to  count  her  tulips  by  hundreds, 
or  to  mark  where  the  crown-imperials  were 
treasuring  their  drops  of  honey  for  the 
grand-children's  curious  fingers.  No  longer 
she  lingered  to  catch  the  perfume  of  her 
damask  roses,  while  the  great  grey  cat  rub 
bed  backward  and  forward  against  her 
dress,  as  if  wondering  whether  her  mistress 
had  stopped  to  be  caressed,  or  to  let  the 
sunshine  fall  on  those  silvery  tresses  which 
little  hands  had  smoothed  so  lovingly.  Mrs. 
Eaton  was  no  more  among  her  flowers.  She 
had  passed  to  that  land  where  there  is  no 
blight,  no  death,  no  decay. 

Yet  the  old-fashioned  garden  was  still  the 
same,  and  the  knotty  pear  tree  had  hung  out 
its  blossoms  one  spring  morning,  as  cheerily 
as  if  it  had  not  seen  full  thirty  seasons  since 
it  gained  its  prime.  A  gentle  breeze  shook 
the  gnarled  branches,  and  down  came  a 
white  shower,  a  sweet  spring  shower,  from 


THE   OLD-FASHIONED   GARDEN.  9 

the  dainty  blossoms.  A  pair  of  blue  eyes 
looked  up  quickly,  and  a  pleasant  smile 
crossed  a  bright  young  face  for  a  moment ; 
then  the  eyes  were  again  fixed  upqai  an 
open  book,  and  the  young  face  grew  serious 
with  earnest  interest.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
old  pear  tree  was  in  its  way,  blessing  the 
little  reader,  bending  there  over  God's 
book  in  the  very  May  morning  of  her  life. 

Carrie  Eaton  liked  that  seat  under  the 
pear  tree,  with  the  little  grass  plot  about 
her,  and  the  currant  bushes  shutting  in  the 
green  circle  with  their  friendly  hedge.  It 
was  a  quiet  retired  spot,  full  of  sacred 
memories  of  that  dear  grandmother  who 
had  so  early  shown  to  her  the  beauty  and 
power  of  the  religion  which  can  make  old 
age  lovely,  and  robe  even  death  with  glory. 
Here  Carrie  had  heard  many  sweet  words 
of  counsel  from  the  lips  of  the  aged  saint, 
and  here  she  liked  to  bring  her  Bible  to 
keep  the  promise  she  had  made  to  that  dear 


10  UNDER  THE   PEAE  TREE. 

friend  to  read  in  it  every  day,  as  long  as 
she  should  live.  Ah !  Mrs.  Eaton  had  made 
sure  of  a  blessing  when  she  secured  such 
daily  food  for  the  child.  Carrie  was  read 
ing  of  Stephen,  the  first  martyr,  this  morn 
ing,  and  her  eyes  were  at  one  time  large 
with  interest,  then  soft  with  tears,  as  she 
went  on  with  the  story. 

"And  when  he  had  said  this,  he  fell 
asleep."  These  were  the  last  words  of  the 
chapter,  and  Carrie  had  shut  the  book. 
Was  she,  too,  asleep  ? 

Her  eyes  were  closed,  but  busy,  very  busy 
was  the  brain  within.  Not  alone  of  Ste 
phen  was  she  thinking,  but  of  the  long  train 
of  martyrs,  who  like  him  had  suffered  for 
their  Lord.  Glorious  indeed  seemed  to  her 
such  a  portion.  "  I  wonder  if  I  could  be  a 
martyr  ? "  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  wonder 
how  it  would  seem." 

As  the  little  girl  spoke,  she  rose  from  her 
seat,  and  stood  with  her  back  firmly  against 


THE   OLD-FASHIONED   GARDEN.  11 

the  trunk  of  the  old  tree.  "  I  could  not 
move,"  she  whispered  ;  "  I  should  be  tied 
fast,  and  they  would  heap  up  faggots  around 
me,  and  the  guards  would  stand  off  about 
where  the  currant  bushes  are,  to  watch  the 
fire,  and  see  how  I  could  bear  the  torture. 
I  would  sing  ;  yes,  I  would  sing  '  I  want  to 
be  an  angel/  They  should  see  that  I  was 
glad  to  die  for  the  Saviour." 

To  Carrie's  excited  imagination  she 
seemed  in  the  midst  of  the  scene  she  had 
fancied.  The  currant  bushes,  clad  in  their 
tender  green,  were  to  her  soldiers  in  martial 
array  ;  the  tree  was  the  fatal  stake,  and  as 
closely  she  was  bound  to  it  as  if  chains  of 
iron  were  holding  her  there.  On  the  rustic 
seat  beside  her  lay  her  Bible  and  her  bon 
net,  the  sun  bonnet  she  had  twitched  off  so 
hastily  that  the  still  untied  knot  dangled  to 
the  one  firm  string.  Book  and  bonnet  were 
unseen  by  Carrie,  in  whose  imagination  the 
martyr's  pile  about  her  was  already  lighted. 


12  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

Then  her  sweet  voice  burst  forth  in  her  fa 
vorite  hymn,  so  loud  and  clear  that  the 
birds  joined  in  their  chorus,  as  in  sympathy 
with  her  seeming  joy. 

The  hymn  was  over,  and  Carrie  looked 
about  her,  fancying  that  for  the  last  time 
she  saw  the  pleasant  piazza  of  her  home  and 
the  tall  trees  drooping  over  its  roof.  The 
garden,  the  orchard,  "soon  she  should  see  no 
more.  Her  mother!  Here  Carrie's  heart 
quailed,  but  she  choked  the  sudden  feeling, 
and  commenced  again  singing,  in  a  voice 
even  more  strong  and  clear  than  before, — 

"  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea 
But  that  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me, 
And  thou  biddest  me  come  to  thee, 
0  Lamb  of  God,  I  come." 

Carrie  was  not  to  forget  her  mother,  even 
in  her  fancied  martyrdom. 

Through  the  only  opening  in  the  currant 
bushes  came  that  mother,  pleased  to  hear 
her  daughter  so  employed,  but  astonished  at 


THE   OLD-FASHIOXED   GARDEN.  13 

her  constrained  attitude,  and  the  excited 
expression  in  her  usually  gentle  face. 

"  Carrie,  dear,  I  was  looking  for  you," 
she  said,  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  the  child's 
shoulder. 

Carrie  started,  then  put  her  head  on  her 
mother's  neck,  and  burst  into  tears.  "  I  am 
glad  it  is  not  true  after  all ! "  she  exclaim 
ed  ;  "I  could  not  bear  to  leave  you." 

"  What!  what,  my  child ! "  said  the  mother, 
anxiously. 

"  Oh,  I  was  trying  to  see  how  it  would 
seem  to  be  a  martyr,  and  I  thought  I  could 
bear  it  very  well  till  I  saw  you,  and  heard 
you  speak  to  me.  I  am  afraid  I  never  could 
be  a  martyr !  Mother,  can  anybody  be  a 
Christian  who  is  not  willing  to  be  a  mar 
tyr?" 

The  mother  smiled,  and  putting  her  arm 
around  her  child,  she  sat  down  with  her  be 
neath  the  old  tree. 

"  God  has  not  chosen  you  to  be  one  of 
2 


14:  UNDER  THE  PEAR  TREE. 

his  martyrs,  Carrie.  You  cannot  expect  to 
be  ready  for  what  he  has  not  asked  you  to 
do.  No  one  can  be  a  true  Christian  who  is 
not  ready  to  bear  just  what  God  gives  him 
to  suffer.  That  is  all  he  requires  of  us. 
We  each  have  our  cross  to  bear,  our  trials 
to  go  through,  and  we  must  suffer  with  pa 
tience  if  we  are  truly  Christ's  followers. 
Our  Lord  is  very  merciful.  He  knows  the 
tender  hearts  of  little  children,  and  rarely 
sends  them  great  trials  ;  and  he  has  made  it 
so  natural  for  them  to  be  joyous,  that  even 
in  real  affliction  they  cannot  suffer  as  older 
people  do.  You  must  have  the  martyr's 
spirit,  Carrie,  though  you  may  not  have  his 
iiery  trial.  You  must  be  willing  to  bear  all 
*hat  is  sent  you  cheerfully,  and  even  joyfully, 
since  it  is  our  Lord  who  plans  every  feature 
and  circumstance  of  our  daily  life.  He 
plans  for  us  in  love,  and  in  love  and  cheer 
fulness  we  should  endure  what  he  sends." 
"  I  don't  have  any  thing  to  bear  ;  I  feel 


THE   OLD-FASHIONED   GARDEN.  15 


as  though  I  should  like  to  have  to  endure 
something,'7  said  Carrie,  in  a  disappointed 
tone. 

Again  the  mother  smiled,  as  she  said,  "  It 
will  not  be  long,  my  darling,  before  you  will 
have  something  to  try  your  patience  ;  re 
member,  then,  that  the  smallest  troubles 
may  be  borne  for  Jesus'  sake,  and  so  may 
be  met  with  the  martyr's  spirit." 


II. 

gtftfft. 

CARRIE  EATON  was  not  at  all  times 
tlie  serious,  thoughtful  child  we  found 
her  in  our  last  chapter.  The  very  af 
ternoon  which  followed  her  fancied  martyr 
dom,  she  spent  in  playing  hide-and-go-seek 
with  her  cousin,  and  the  air  that  had  re 
sounded  to  her  parting  hymn,  rang  with  her 
merry  peals  of  laughter. 

Sound  was  Carrie's  sleep  after  her  frolic, 
and  her  dreams  were  an  odd  mingling  of 
the  solemn  and  the  joyous, — her  morning 
of  excitement  and  her  afternoon  of  fun. 
Only  God  reads  those  dreams,  the  merciful 
heavenly  Father,  who  understands  the  mys 
teries  of  the  heart  of  childhood.  He  knew 
the  sincerity  of  her  desire  to  do  his  will  ; 
he  did  not  frown  upon  her  innocent  pleasures. 

(16) 


NEWS.  17 


The  kind  Providence  that  watches  over 
little  children,  seems  to  make  their  eyes 
heavy  with  sleep,  and  lay  them  aside  for  the 
night,  that  it  may  fill  them  with  a  new 
measure  ©f  joy  with  which  to  awake  in  the 
morning.  So  it  was  with  Carrie  Eaton  ; 
the  early  sunlight  that  lit  her  pretty  bed 
room  made  her  conscious  of  a  glad  awaking, 
and  she  cheerily  opened  her  eyes  to  the  new 
day.  Yery  happy  she  felt  while  she  was 
dressing  ;  her  parents,  her  home,  her  every 
blessing  seemed  particularly  precious  to  her, 
and  when  she  knelt  for  her  morning  prayer, 
it  was  to  be  a  thanksgiving  quite  as  much 
as  a  series  of  petitions.  As  Carrie  looked 
round  once  more  on  her  pleasant  room  be 
fore  going  down  to  breakfast,  she  thought 
of  the  martyr  Stephen,  and  almost  lamented 
that  she  had  no  cross  to  bear,  or  that  it 
was  so  light,  that  as  yet  she  hardly  felt  its 
burden. 

Young  Mrs.  Eaton,  the  villagers  called. 
2* 


18  UNDER  THE  PEAR  TREE. 

Carrie's  mother,  but  as  we  have  only  had  a 
passing  glimpse  of  the  old  lady  among  her 
flowers  before  she  went  to  her  rest,  we  may 
think  of  her  as  one  of  those  who  bear  the 
"new  name"  in  the  Heavenly  kingdom, 
while  we  shall  know  as  Mrs.  Eaton,  the 
young,  pleasant-looking  lady  who  was  wait 
ing  for  Carrie  in  the  breakfast-room. 

Mr.  Eaton  was  a  quiet,  studious  man,  who 
loved  his  books  and  his  wife  and  child,  and 
was  ever  happiest  when  in  his  own  home. 
He  had  made  no  effort  to  make  public  his 
consistent  character,  or  to  exhibit  his  good 
deeds  ;  yet  somehow  his  light  did  shine,  and 
that  so  clearly,  that  there  was  not  a  man  in 
all  Bending  Brook  who  was  more  univer 
sally  beloved  or  respected.  When  our 
Lord  bade  us  to  "  let  our  light  shine,"  he 
did  not  tell  us  to  flaunt  it  in  our  neighbors' 
faces.  We  have  but  to  see  to  it  that  our 
lamps  are  burning,  and  if  they  are  lit  from 
.above,  their  brightness  will  make  glad  the 


NEWS.  19 


spot  where  we  dwell,  without  taking  any 
trouble  about  the  matter. 

People  said  it  was  natural  for  the  Batons 
to  be  good ;  they  had  been  so,  father  and 
son,  mother  and  daughter,  for  four  genera 
tions.  (Ah,  that  were  indeed  belonging  to 
a  good  family  /)  Those  outsiders  saw  the 
results,  but  they  knew  very  little  of  the 
facts  of  the  case.  They  had  not  heard  the 
earnest  prayers  in  the  closet,  at  the  family 
altar,  and  in  sweet  interviews  between 
mother  and  child  that  had  been  breathed 
in  the  Eaton's  home.  They  gave  no  credit 
to  the  pious,  careful  training,  line  upon  line, 
precept  upon  precept,  which  was  the  pecu 
liarity  of  the  house.  They  had  not  seen 
each  individual  soul  in  its  repentance,  its 
faith,  its  struggles,  its  continual  struggles 
heavenward. 

Mr.  Eaton  looked  up  from  a  letter  he  was 
reading  as  Carrie  came  into  the  breakfast- 
room.  His  verv  smile  was  a  welcome  with- 


20  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

out  his  pleasant  "  Good  morning."  An 
important  letter  that  seemed  to  be,  for  it 
lay  beside  the  father's  plate  all  the  while  he 
was  eating,  and  he  favored  it  now  and  then 
with  a  thoughtful  glance. 

"  Father  was  planning  something  to-day, 
I  am  sure,"  said  Carrie,  as  Mr.  Eaton  left 
the  house  for  his  morning  walk. 

"  Yes,  Carrie,"  said  the  mother ;  "  we 
are  to  have  visitors  who  are  to  pass  some 
time  with  us.  Very  likely  your  father  was 
'planning/ as  you  say,  to  arrange  his  time  so 
as  to  have  as  much  as  possible  to  spare  for 
his  guests." 

"  Visitors ! "  exclaimed  Carrie  ;  "  I  am  so 
glad  !  I  like  to  have  company.  Who  are 
they?" 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant,  a  young  couple 
who  have  only  been  married  a  year.  Mr. 
Grant  is  a  son  of  an  old  friend  of  your 
father,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Only  a  Mr.  and  Mrs. ! "  said  Carrie,  with 


NEWS.  21 


a  disappointed  air.  "  I  hoped  it  was  some 
pretty  young  lady,  or  maybe  somebody  with 
a  baby,  or  a  little  girl." 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  feel  as  we  do,  glad 
to  receive  them,  when  I  tell  you  that  Mr. 
Grant  had  a  government  office  at  Washing 
ton,  and  has  just  been  thrown  out  of  it. 
Your  father  has  invited  him  to  stay  here 
until  he  can  get  a  new  situation.  He  feels 
very  much  interested  for  the  young  couple 
in  their  misfortune." 

Mrs.  Eaton  might  have  added,  that  Mr. 
Grant  had  been  quite  intemperate  when  a 
very  young  man,  and  that  her  husband 
feared  that  in  his  present  discouragement 
his  old  habits  might  revive,  and  was  there 
fore  anxious  to  give  him  the  shelter  of  a 
Christian  home,  and  the  kind  love  of  an 
elder  friend,  till  his  time  of  temptation 
should  be  over.  This  part  of  the  story 
Mrs.  Eaton  prudently  kept  to  herself,  but 
she  had  told  enough  to  awaken  Carrie's 


22  UNDER  THE  PEAR  TREE. 


warm  sympathies,  and  she  at  once  ex 
claimed  : — 

"  That  was  just  like  father  ;  so  kind  !  I 
mean  to  be  as  pleasant  to  them  as  I  can." 

"  That  is  a  good  resolution,  but  it  may 
cost  you  some  effort  to  keep  it.  I  shall 
have  to  give  them  your  room,  my  dear,  that 
they  may  feel  free  to  stay  as  long  as  they 
please.  If  I  put  them  in  our  east  chamber, 
they  may  fancy  they  are  in  the  way  if  other 
visitors  should  arrive.  You  can  have  the 
little  room  next  to  us.  I  shall  have  you  al 
most  under  my  wing  again." 

Carrie  tried  to  smile,  but  it  was  a  dismal 
little  smile.  Give  up  her  pleasant  room  j 
the  very  spot  that  had  looked  so  charmingly 
to  her  in  the  morning !  Take  the  cramped 
quarters  where  there  was  but  a  narrow  pas 
sage  betwixt  the  bed  and  the  bureau !  These 
were  not  pleasant  ideas.  "Where  shall  I 
hang  my  dresses  ?  There  is  no  closet  in  the 
hall-room."  said  Carrie. 


NEWS.  23 


"  I  shall  have  to  make  a  place  for  you  in 
one  of  my  great  closets.  My  black  dresses 
are  not  so  many  that  I  cannot  let  in  a  little 
pink  or  blue,  one  here  and  there,  to  keep 
them  company,"  said  the  mother,  with  a 
cheerful  smile. 

"  Shall  I  leave  my  book-case  in  my  room, 
and  my  baby-house  and  my  great  work-box, 
and  my  little  rocking-chair,  and  all  my 
things  ?  There  will  be  no  place  for  them 
in  the  little  room,"  continued  Carrie,  in  a 
somewhat  disconsolate  tone. 

"  If  you  think  yourself  a  martyr  in  this 
heavy  trouble,  my  darling,  you  must  try  to 
suffer  cheerfully,"  said  the  mother,  with  a 

smile. 

Carrie  blushed  very  deeply,  as  she  an 
swered,  "  Indeed,  mamma,  I  forgot  all  about 
what  you  were  saying  to  me  yesterday.  I 
do  not  think  I  should  make  a  very  good 
martyr,  but  I  really  want  to  bear  my  little 
troubles  as  well  as  I  can." 


24  UNDER   THE   PEAR  TREE. 

"  Then  off  with  you  up  stairs,  and  be  as 
busy  as  a  bee.  I  shall  come  up  by-and-by, 
to  see  what  you  have  accomplished.  You 
can  change  your  clothes  to  the  other  bureau 
without  my  being  there.  You  may  lock  up 
your  baby-house  and  your  work-box,  and  let 
them  remain  where  they  are.  Your  little 
work-basket  and  your  favorite  doll  Fanny, 
can  go  with  you  to  your  new  home.  Your 
book-case  you  had  better  leave  where  it  is. 
I  do  not  think  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant  are  re 
ligious  people,  and  perhaps  they  may  take 
down  some  of  your  sweet  Sunday-school 
stories,  or  pleasant  hymns,  and  be  the  better 
for  reading  them.  I  am  sure  you  would  not 
object  to  that." 

Carrie's  eyes  sparkled  as  she  answered  : 
"  I  should  love  to  have  my  books  do  some 
good !  I  hope  they  will  read  them.  And, 
mother,  may  I  leave  grandmother's  big 
Bible,  with  her  favorite  texts  marked  in  it, 
on  the  little  table,  where  I  always  keep  it  ?" 


NEWS.  25 


"  Yes,  my  child,"  said  the  mother,  with  an 
approving  smile.  "And,  Carrie,  if  you 
choose,  you  may  let  your  rocking-chair 
keep  its  place,  too.  Mr.  Grant  speaks  of 
his  'little  wife/  perhaps  that  may  prove 
just  the  sort  to  suit  her." 

"  Is  she  little  ?  I  am  so  glad  ;  she  won't 
seem  like  so  much  of  a  stranger  to  me. 
Perhaps  I  shall  be  almost  as  big  as  she  is  ; 
everybody  says  I  am  a  very  tall  girl  for  ten 
years  old." 

Carrie  straightened  herself  up  as  she 
spoke,  but  she  did  not  look  so  very  impos 
ing  after  all. 

"  Mrs.  Grant  must  be  a  little  woman,  in 
deed,  if  she  is  not  taller  than  you  are, 
darling,"  said  Mrs.  Eaton,  with  a  smile. 

"Didn't  you  ever  see  her?  Do  you 
know  her  husband  ?"  asked  Carrie,  quickly. 

"I  have  never  seen  them,"  said  Mrs. 
Eaton,  quietly. 

"  Do  you  like  to  have  them  come,  mam- 
3 


26  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


ma?"  Carrie  looked  earnestly  into  her 
mother's  face,  as  she  asked  this  question. 

The  least  bit  of  a  blush  came  suddenly 
into  Mrs.  Eaton's  usually  pale  cheeks,  as  she 
answered,  "  Of  course  I  cannot  feel  as  glad, 
Carrie,  as  if  it  were  your  aunt  Fanny,  or 
any  one  I  really  love  ;  yet  I  do  want  to  have 
them  come,  and  I  shall  try  to  like  them 
both,  and  make  it  very  pleasant  for  them 
here." 

"Ah,  mamma !  I  have  caught  you  this 
time,"  exclaimed  Carrie.  "You  take  your 
little  crosses  so  sweetly,  that  nobody  ever 
knows  you  have  any  thing  to  bear.  Of 
course,  you  like  it  better  with  just  father 
and  me  ;  but  you  think  it  is  kind  to  invite 
them  here,  and  you  mean  to  do  them  all  the 
good  you  can.  I  understand  you,  and  now 
I  shall  go  up  stairs  and  make  my  room  look 
as  sweetly  as  I  can,  for  the  { wee  wife.' " 

Backwards  and  forwards  went  Carrie's 
busy  feet  as  she  bore  armful  after  armful  of 


NEWS.  27 


clothing,  thinking  all  the  time  that  her 
little  toil  was  sent  her  by  her  heavenly 
Master,  and  she  would  try,  like  her  mother, 
to  bear  it  so  cheerfully  that  it  should  cease 
to  be  a  pain. 

Carrie's  valuables  were  locked  up,  and 
the  bunch  of  keys  dropped  into  her  pocket. 
She  had  arranged  the  books  on  the  shelf, 
and  as  she  read  the  titles,  sent  up  a  silent 
prayer  that  they  might  be  blessed  to  the 
new  comers.  The  small  rocking-chair  was 
placed  by  the  most  cheerful  window,  and  a 
bouquet  of  fresh  flowers  had  been  put  in 
front  of  the  great  Bible  on  the  corner  table. 

Carrie  looked  round  approvingly,  and  a 
feeling  of  love  sprung  up  in  her  heart  to 
ward  the  expected  guests,  for  whom  she 
had  been  so  kindly  preparing.  She  was  so 
full  of  cheerfulness  that  she  was  not  put  out 
of  patience  when  her  dress  caught  on  the 
various  knobs  as  she  passed  into  her  new 
room,  and  sat  down  by  the  window.  There 


28  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE*. 


was  just  room  for  a  seat  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed,  and  there  Carrie  established  herself  to 
take  a  few  moments  of  rest.  From  this 
side  of  the  house  she  could  see  the  dear  old 
garden,  and  the  pear  tree  in  the  midst  of 
its  circle  of  green,  the  scene  of  her  im 
agined  martyrdom.  "Ah ! "  thought  she,  "  it 
is  well  I  am  not  called  to  be  a  martyr,  if  it 
is  so  hard  for  me  to  bear  even  the  trials. 
When  I  look  out  of  this  window,  I  hope  I 
shall  always  remember  what  mother  said  to 
me  under  the  pear  tree." 

There  was  a  whisper  at  Carrie's  heart 
that  every  good  resolution  should  be 
strengthened  by  prayer.  Softly  she  stepped 
to  the  door,  and  gently  locked  it.  Then 
she  knelt  down  by  the  small  bed,  and  very 
earnestly  she  prayed  that -God  would  help 
her  to  bear  patiently  all  trials,  great  and 
small,  which  he  might  send  her,  and  make 
her  ever  ready  cheerfully  to  do  his  will. 


III. 


was  stealing  on  as  Carrie 
\yjjJ  and  her  mother  were  awaiting  Mr. 
Eaton's  return  from  the  depot,  whither 
he  had  gone  to  meet  the  expected  guests. 

There  was  no  detention  of  trains  that  day, 
and  not  long  was  Carrie's  eager  face  pressed 
against  the  parlour  window  before  she  ex 
claimed,  "  They  are  coming  !  they  are  com 
ing  !  "  and  mother  and  child  were  at  once 
at  the  door  with  a  ready  welcome  on  their 
lips. 

Mr.  Eaton  stepped  first  from  the  carriage, 
but  was  immediately  followed  by  a  slender 
young  man,  who  turned  but  a  moment  so  as 
to  make  visible  his  gay  waistcoat  and  soft 
curls,  and  then  put  his  head  into  the  carriage 
to  assist  the  rest  of  the  party  to  alight. 

3*  29 


30  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


The  lady,  the  very  little  lady,  put  her 
hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  he  lifted  her  on 
to  the  steps  as  if  she  had  been  a  child. 

Mrs.  Eaton  moved  forward  with  extended 
hand,  thinking  her  time  had  come  now,  but 
the  strangers  seemed  as  yet  unconscious  of 
her  presence.  "  Do  wake  Roche  up  ;  shake 
her,  William,  she's  almost  dead  with  sleep," 
said  Mrs.  Grant,  as  her  husband  was  again 
half  into  the  carriage. 

Mrs.  Eaton  and  Carrie  exchanged  glances 
of  astonishment  and  curiosity,  a  curiosity 
which  was  soon  gratified.  Out  came  a  little 
negro  girl,  with  her  eyes  as  wide  open  as 
if  she  beheld  the  world  for  the  first  time, 
and  was  much  surprised  at  its  inhabitants. 
The  numerous  braids  of  woolly  hair  standing 
off  from  her  head  in  every  direction,  added 
to  her  look  of  startled  wonder,  and  almost 
made  Carrie  forget  her  politeness  in  a  sud 
den  laugh.  This  breach  of  decorum  she  was 
saved  by  her  father's  saying  at  the  moment, 


THE   VISITORS.  31 


"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant,  let  me  present  you  to 
my  wife  and  daughter." 

Mr.  Grant  went  through  the  introduction 
with  an  easy  off-hand  cordiality,  but  his  lit 
tle  wife  seemed  intent  upon  noticing  the  safe 
landing  of  two  great  trunks,  which  after  a 
few  hasty  words  she  promptly  followed  to 
the  room  where  they  were  placed. 

Very  prettily  looked  Mrs.  Grant  when  she 
came  down  to  the  supper  table,  though  her 
style  of  dress  was  not  particularly  suited  to 
the  occasion.  In  the  midst  of  her  waving 
dark  hair  glistened  the  pendants  from  the 
various  gilt  pins  with  which  her  head  was 
adorned,  while  her  light  green  silk  was  be- 
ruffled  and  beflounced  in  the  height  of  fash 
ion. 

Mr.  Grant  admired  her  very  heartily,  that 
vas  plain,  as  he  went  so  far  as  to  ask  Mrs. 
Eaton  if  she  did  not  think  green  particularly 
becoming  to  a  fresh  complexion  like  his 
Lizzie's. 


32  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


Mrs.  Eaton  kindly  assented,  but  she  man 
aged  to  get  very  quickly  from  green  silks  to 
other  green  things,  and  so  to  the  country, 
and  so  out  of  range  of  silks  and  satins. 

Behind  Mrs.  Grant's  chair  stood  Rache, 
now  thoroughly  awake,  and  on  the  alert  to 
see  all  that  was  to  be  seen.  Radio's  few 
garments  dropped  scant  and  straight  around 
her,  and  made  her  seem  even  more  scrupul 
ously  erect  than  she  really  was,  while  her 
head  sloping  up  from  the  forehead  increased 
the  air  of  self-satisfaction,  which  was  plainly 
her  predominant  characteristic.  Whatever 
might  happen,  Bache  never  considered  her 
self  to  blame.  It  was  her  misfortune  to  live 
in  a  world  where  things  "  went  wrong  " — a 
trial  which  she  generally  bore  with  provok 
ing  good  humour. 

Mrs.  Grant  had  very  little  appetite  after 
her  journey,  and  her  husband  pressed  her  to 
take  what  was  on  the  table,  quite  as  if  he 
were  the  master  of  the  house. 


THE   VISITORS.  33 


After  tea  followed  a  dragging  conversa 
tion,  in  which  Mrs.  Grant  seemed  only  at 
her  ease  when  she  could  describe  some  party 
she  had  attended,  or  some  magnificent  dress 
that  had  attracted  her  admiration.  The 
gentlemen  meanwhile  were  getting  on  rather 
better,  arid  Carrie  stole  to  her  father's  side 
to  listen  to  his  account  of  his  first  visit  in 
his  boyhood  to  the  early  home  of  Mr.  Grant. 
She  was  just  deeply  interested  in  the  result 
of  a  ride  on  a  very  wild  pony,  when  her 
mother  gently  said, "  It  is  time  for  you  to  go  up 
stairs  now,  Carrie, you  may  say  '  good  night.' " 

Carrie  gave  the  usual  kiss  to  her  father 
and  mother,  and  then  looked  doubtfully  at 
the  strangers. 

"  I  like  little  girls,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  pleas 
antly.  "  I  must  have  a  kiss,  too." 

Mrs.  Grant  did  not  seem  fond  of  children  ; 
at  any  rate  her  manner  was  very  cold,  as  she 
turned  her  cheek  to  Carrie,  and  bade  her 
good  night. 


34  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

Mrs.  Eaton  was  in  the  habit  of  going  up 
stairs  with  her  little  daughter  and  seeing 
her  safely  into  bed.  Many  a  pleasant  talk 
they  had  in  those  quiet  interviews,  and  Car 
rie  often  said,  she  never  loved  her  mother  as 
well  as  when  she  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed,  and  bending  over  her  after  one  of 
these  heart  to  heart  conversations. 

This  night  Carrie  went  alone  to  her  little 
room.  Her  head  was  quite  in  a  whirl  when 
she  sat  down  to  read  a  few  verses  in  her 
Bible,  as  was  her  custom.  She  repeated 
very  earnestly  her  usual  petition  on  opening 
the  Holy  Book,  "Lord  bless  thy  word  to 
me,"  and  her  thoughts  by  degrees  were  fixed 
upon  what  she  was  reading,  and  even  in  her 
prayers  they  did  not  wander.  When,  how 
ever,  she  was  fairly  in  bed,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Grant  and  Rache  took  possession  of  her 
mind.  "  He  is  not  at  all  like  papa,  and  yet 
he  is  not  disagreeable.  He  likes  little  girls  ; 
I  am  glad  of  that.  I  can  get  on  with  almost 


THE   VISITORS.  35 


any  body  that  likes  children.  I  don't  know 
what  Mrs.  Grant  will  think  of  my  gingham 
apron  I  wear  to  breakfast.  I  wonder  if  she 
always  dresses  in  silk  ?  I  don't  believe  she 
cares  about  little  girls  j  she  only  spoke  to  me 
when  she  bade  me  good  night.  I  don't  see 
what  Rache  does  all  the  time ;  she  is  the 
queerest  little  object  I  ever  saw.  When  her 
mouth  opens  to  laugh,  it  seems  to  pull  her 
eyes  open  too.  Oh,  dear,  I  wish  mother  was 
here,  I  do  so  miss  her ;  I  am  afraid  she 
won't  come  up  with  me  all  the  while  the 
visitors  are  here." 

Carrie  was  just  getting  out  of  humour 
with  the  Grants,  when  some  one  came  in 
very  gently  at  the  door. 

"  I  am  not  asleep,  mamma  !  I  am  so  glad 
to  see  you,"  said  Carrie,  rising  up  in  bed. 
"Mrs.  Grant  had  to  consult  with  her  hus 
band  about  a  letter  she  wanted  him  to  write 
in  the  morning,  so  I  took  the  opportunity  to 
slip  up  stairs  for  a  moment,"  said  Mrs.  Eaton. 


36  UNDER  THE  PEAK  TREE. 

"  I  sha'n't  like  them  at  all  if  they  keep 
you  away  from  me,"  said  Carrie,  as  she  put 
her  arm  around  her  mother's  neck.  "  I  am 
afraid  it  will  not  be  very  pleasant  having 
them  here.  Do  you  think  they  will  stay  very 
long?" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  my  child !  "  said  her  mo 
ther,  with  a  look  of  pain  in  her  features, 
"  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  you  speak  in  that 
way  of  guests  in  our  house.  I  will  give  you 
some  Bible  verses  to  dwell  upon  when  such 
thoughts  come  into  your  mind :  '  Use  hos 
pitality  without  grudging.'  '  I  was  a  stran 
ger  and  ye  took  me  in.'  *  Inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these, 
ye  have  done  it  unto  me.' " 

"  I  did  not  think  of  that,  mamma,"  said 
Carrie,  brightening.  " '  Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these.'  I 
was  out  of  patience  about  your  not  coming 
up.  I  dare  say  I  shall  like  them  very  much." 

"  Having  strangers  in  the  house  may  call 


THE   VISITORS.  37 


for  some  self-denial  on  your  part  in  many 
ways,  but  I  am  sure  you  are  too  thankful  for 
your  pleasant  home  to  murmur  at  the  lit 
tle  trials  you  have  to  bear/'  said  Mrs.  Eaton. 

"  Indeed  I  am  ;  I  feel  as  if  I  loved  every 
body  and  could  not  be  made  cross  by  any 
thing  more,  mamma  ;  so  kiss  me  again,  and 
in  the  morning  I  shall  try  to  get  up  as  pa 
tient  as  a  little  martyr." 

Mrs.  Eaton  went  down  stairs  and  Carrie 
soon  fell  asleep  to  dream  of  Rache,  a  tulip 
blossoming    out    from    every    independent 
braid  on  her  wonderful  head, 
4 


IV. 


ARRIE  EATON  was  not  only  fond  of 
flowers,  but  she  liked  gardening,  real 
hard  work  with  rake  and  hoe. 
Carrie  had  what  she  called  a  magnificent 
plan  for  laying  out  her  little  plot  of  ground 
this  summer.     Not  landscape  gardening  was 
it  to  be,  but  geographical  gardening,  a  new 
branch  of  horticulture.     She  was  going  to 
represent  South  America  on  a  small  scale  — 
mountains,  rivers  and  plains,  all  complete. 

Already  a  long  bank  of  earth  represented 
the  one-sided  backbone  of  the  peninsula, 
while  a  piece  of  broken  quartz  conspicuously 
stood  out  as  the  rocky  island  of  Terra  del 
Fuego,  with  a  smaller  stone  south  of  it,  as 
the  renowned  Cape  Horn.  The  great  Am 
azon  wTas  now  to  rise  among  the  mountains 

(38) 


SOUTH   AMERICA.  39 

and  make  its  way  to  the  sea.  This  was  a 
work  of  difficulty,  but  Carrie  was  resolved 
upon  success.  Her  mother  had  warned  her 
that  breakfast  would  be  somewhat  later  than 
usual  to  accommodate  the  strangers,  and  the 
little  girl  had  determined  to  at  least  make 
ready  the  bed  of  the  Amazon  before  she  was 
called  to  the  table.  She  was  hard  at  work 
lifting  the  hoe  high  in  air  for  every  stroke, 
when  she  was  accosted  by  a  pleasant  voice 
behind  her. 

"  You  are  an  early  riser,  Miss  Carrie  ; 
pray  what  are  you  doing  ?  "  said  Mr.  Grant, 
as  he  surveyed  the  field  of  her  labours. 

Carrie  explained  her  plan,  and  dwelt  with 
enthusiasm  on  the  way  she  meant  to  carry 
it  out. 

Mr.  Grant  smiled  good-humor edly,  as  he 
said,  "  The  rivers  will  be  your  great  difficul 
ty.  "Water  would  sink  into  this  soil  as  fast 
as  you  poured  it  on.  I  might  make  you 
some  wooden  troughs  with  sloping  sides, 


4.0  UNDER   THE   PEAR  TREE. 

and  you  could  line  them  with  moss.  Let  me 
see,  the  land  lies  just  right  from  the  pump, 
to  have  the  water  brought  here  in  an  under 
ground  pipe,  passing  through  the  mountains, 
and  opening  just  where  you  want  your  riv 
ers  to  rise." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Grant !  how  kind  you  are  ! " 
exclaimed  Carrie.  "  That  will  be  splendid  ;" 
and  more  vigorously  than  ever  went  on  her 
preparations. 

Mr.  Grant  was  very  fond  of  little  girls, 
as  he  had  said,  and  he  amused  himself  for 
some  time  chatting  with  Carrie,  as  she  pur 
sued  her  labors  with  most  creditable  industry. 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  real  Andes," 
said  Carrie.  As  she  spoke  she  surveyed  her 
mountains,  enjoying  their  heights  being  in 
creased  by  every  new  arrival  of  soil  from  the 
growing  bed  of  the  Amazon. 

"  What  if  I  should  tell  you  that  I  had 
seen  the  real  Andes,  with  these  very  eyes 
that  are  looking  at  you,"  said  Mr.  Grant. 


SOUTH   AMERICA.  41 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  "  said  Carrie,  stop 
ping  to  gaze  into  her  companion's  face. 

"  Yes,  certain,  true,  black  and  blue,"  was 
the  answer.  "  I  took  a  sea-voyage — a  voyage 
after  whales — when  I  was  a  young  fellow. 
Something  got  wrong  with  our  ship,  and  we 
put  in  at  Callao.  I  wonder  if  you  know 
where  that  is." 

"  It  is  in  Peru,  on  the  coast,"  said  Carrie, 
promptly. 

"  Right ;  now  I  will  go  on.  From  there 
some  of  us  sailors  went  to  Lima,  and  were 
not  contented  till  we  had  not  only  a  sight 
of  the  Andes,  but  had  our  feet  actually  on 
them,  though,  of  course,  we  did  not  go  to 
the  top." 

"  I  should  love  dearly  to  see  the  Andes," 
said  Carrie  again,  more  thoughtfully  than 
before. 

"  Why  so  ?  "  said  Mr.  Grant,  curiously. 

"  Because  God  made  them,"  said  Carrie. 
"  I  know  lie  made  everything,  but  I  think  I 
4* 


42  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

could  understand  his  great  power  if  I  saw 
the  mountains  piled  up  so  high,  and  the 
smoke  going  up  from  the  volcanoes,  and  the 
earth  shaking  and  trembling,  as  it  does  some 
times  in  those  cities  by  the  Andes." 

Mr.  Grant  looked  wonderingly  at  the 
child,  as  he  answered, 

"  I  think  such  sights  would  be  more  likely 
to  frighten  you  than  to  give  you  pleasure." 

"  You  know  we  need  not  be  afraid  of  any 
thing  if  God  is  our  friend/' said  Carrie,  simply. 

"  That  is  very  true,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  so 
berly  ;  "  but  everybody  is  not  so  sure  that  he 
has  God  for  his  friend.  There  was  an  earth 
quake  when  I  was  in  Lima,  only  a  very 
slight  one,  but  I  confess  I  felt  anything  but 
pleasantly  for  the  time ;  and  some  of  our 
crew,  rough  fellows,  who  were  not  afraid  of 
the  worst  storm  in  the  ocean,  swore  they 
would  not  set  foot  on  such  land  as  that  again 
if  the  Captain  were  to  pay  them  their  weight 
in  gold." 


SOUTH  AMERICA.  43 


"  If  they  swore  I  don't  wonder  they  were 
afraid.  I  never  heard  anybody  swear,  but  I 
know  it  is  dreadfully  wicked/7  said  Carrie, 
very  seriously.  There  was  something  in 
her  companion's  light  way  of  speaking  of 
such  a  sin  that  pained  her  deeply. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  bad  habit,  and  not  an  easy 
one  to  leave  off/7  said  Mr.  Grant,  thought 
fully. 

"  Mother  says  it  is  hard  to  leave  off  any 
bad  habit,  but  we  can  if  we  try,  and  ask 
God  to  help  us/7  said  Carrie. 

The  first  breakfast  bell  now  rang  out  its 
summons,  and  Carrie  hastened  in  to  be  in 
order  to  appear  at  the  table  at  the  second 
ringing.  Mr.  Grant  followed  more  slowly, 
the  late  conversation  still  lingering  in  his 
mind. 

Carrie  forgot  all  about  her  anxiety  as  to 
what  Mrs.  Grant  would  think  of  her  ging 
ham  apron,  in  her  eagerness  to  tell  her 
father  and  mother  of  Mr.  Grant's  kind 


44  UNDER  THE  PEAR  TREE. 


promise  to  assist  her  in  her  gardening  pro 
ject.  Mr.  Eaton  was  well  pleased  to  find 
his  guest  inclined  for  such  innocent  amuse 
ment,  and  at  once  put  him  in  the  way  of 
getting  such  tools,  boards  and  pipes  as  would 
be  needed  for  the  proposed  undertaking. 

"  Mr.  Grant  has  seen  the  real  Andes,  and 
been  in  a  real  earthquake,  and  been  in  a 
ship  after  whales,  too,"  said  Carrie,  whose 
morning  interview  had  quite  done  away  with 
her  stiffness  before  the  strangers. 

Mr.  Eaton  well  remembered  when  a  whal 
ing  voyage  had  been  hit  upon  as  the  last  ex 
pedient  for  breaking  up  young  Grant's  dissi 
pated  habits,  but  he  kindly  refrained  from 
intimating  his  knowledge  of  the  past.  By 
judicious  questioning  he  drew  from  his  guest 
much  that  was  valuable  about  the  scenery 
and  climate  of  the  part  of  South  America 
which  he  had  visited. 

Mr.  Grant  found  himself  listened  to  with 
respect,  and  his  manner  lost  much  of  its  off- 


SOUTH   AMERICA.  45 

hand  recklessness  as  he  tried  to  give  a  clear 
account  of  what  he  had  observed. 

Mrs.  Grant  seemed  quite  satisfied  to  have 
the  conversation  monopolized  by  her  hus 
band,  though  she  occasionally  smoothed  back 
her  hair  or  put  up  her  little  white  hand,  as 
if  she  were  not  unwilling  to  be  looked  at, 
though  she  did  not  care  to  talk. 

After  breakfast  the  family  drew  back  from 
the  table  for  morning  prayers.  Carrie  placed 
the  Bible  before  her  father,  and  then  sat 
down,  while  the  two  respectable  servants 
came  in  from  the  kitchen  and  took  their  ac 
customed  seats. 

Rache  stared  about  her  as  if  afraid  some 
thing  terrible  was  going  to  happen.  Per 
haps  she  feared  she  was  to  be  reckoned  with 
for  her  late  misdeeds  in  the  kitchen.  She 
soon  seemed  assured  that  Jane  and  Betsy 
had  not  come  in  to  testify  about  the  pitcher 
she  had  broken,  or  the  pie  which  she  had 
robbed  of  its  crisp  edges.  Sinking  down 


46  UNDER   THE   PEAK   TREE. 


on  the  floor  behind  her  mistress,  she  awaited 
the  result  of  all  this  preparation. 

Mr.  Eaton  read  the  twentieth  chapter  of 
Exodus,  and  then,  in  a,n  earnest  prayer,  he 
besought  the  help  of  the  Holy  Spirit  for  all 
present,  that  they  might  keep  the  law  of 
God  with  the  loving  zeal  of  those  who  know 
that  they  are  accepted  through  Christ,  the 
Perfect  Example  and  Sufficient  Sacrifice. 

Mr.  Eaton  knew  nothing  of  Carrie's  morn 
ing  talk  with  their  visitor,  but  had  he  read 
that  visitor's  heart,  he  could  not  have  more 
wisely  worded  his  prayer,  or  more  judici 
ously  chosen  his  Scripture  selection. 

Too  often  had  profane  expressions  passed 
the  lips  of  Mr.  Grant,  but  he  had  resolved 
that  of  this  bad  habit,  at  least,  he  would 
cure  himself,  quite  as  much  that  he  might 
never  wound  Carrie's  innocent  ears,  as  from 
a  sense  of  the  wickedness  of  such  a  breach 
of  God's  commandments. 

Carrie's  words,  "We  can  leave  off  any 


SOUTH   AMERICA.  47 

bad  habit  if  we  try,  and  ask  God  to  help 
us,"  was  in  his  mind  while  her  father  was 
praying,  and  Mr.  Grant's  heart  assented  to 
the  petitions,  though  his  lips  would  not  of 
themselves  have  uttered  them. 

Ah,  they  act  unwisely  who  shut  out  the 
stranger  guest  from  their  family  prayers. 
Often  has  the  heart  been  touched,  as  some 
wanderer  has  knelt  with  a  worshipping  cir 
cle  in  a  Christian  home ! 


V. 


BARBIE  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
returned  at  once  to  the  garden  as  soon 
as  prayers  were  over,  but  her  mother 
called  upon  her  to  assist  her  in  putting  away 
the  clean  clothes  just  from  the  wash,  and 
then  there  were  messages  to  be  carried 
to  the  kitchen,  an  errand  to  do  in  the  vil 
lage,  and  the  little  girl's  time  was  so  taken 
up,  that  she  had  but  a  few  moments  to  her 
self  to  read  in  her  own  quiet  room  before 
the  school-bell  rang.  This  was  a  sore  trial 
of  Carrie's  patience,  simply  because  she  had 
set  her  heart  on  pleasure,  rather  than  in  do 
ing  each  moment  the  duty  that  called  upon 
her.  She  generally  liked  to  oblige  her  mo 
ther,  but  this  morning  every  such  act  cost 

(48) 


OVERTUEXIXGS.  49 


her  an  effort ;  she  remenibcred,  however,  the 
old  pear  tree  and  the  young  martyr,  and  re 
solved  to  bear  all  that  came  to  her.  Carrie 
was  making  a  mistake.  She  really  had 
nothing  to  bear,  except  the  consequence  of 
her  too  earnest  desire  to  make  pleasure  her 
occupation.  If  she  had  been  but  full  of 
love  and  longing  to  do  her  duty,  she  would 
have  had  no  trouble.  There  is  no  better 
way  of  filling  our  lot  with  little  trials,  than 
by  starting  out  in  the  morning  with  some 
set  plan  of  enjoyment  which  we  want  to  fol 
low,  and  then  everything  that  interferes 
with  it  is  an  annoyance.  Far  better  is  it  to 
be  in  the  spirit  of  obedience,  ready  to  do 
just  what  God  sends  us  to  do  ;  and  so  pleas 
ures  will  come  when  least  expected,  like  the 
little  flowers  that  spring  from  the  clefts  of 
the  rocks  to  cheer  the  traveller  as  he  climbs 
the  mountain  side.  Carrie  went  off  to 
school  with  the  feeling  that  she  had  rubbed 
through  a  very  hard  time  since  breakfast, 
5 


50  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


and  was  glad  that  she  had  not  shown  her 
annoyance  by  a  single  fretful  word. 

Mrs.  Eaton  had  not  needed  words  to  tell 
her  the  mood  of  her  darling,  but  she  had  let 
her  work  her  way  through  her  own  strug 
gles,  only  helping  her  by  the  silent  prayer 
that  went  up  from  the  mother's  loving  heart. 

Carrie  had  only  time  to  prepare  herself 
for  dinner,  after  her  return  from  school, 
though  she  longed  to  have  just  one  peep 
.at  the  Andes,  by  way  of  giving  her  an  ap 
petite. 

The  afternoon,  however,  was  all  before 
.her,  and  as  soon  as  she  could  be  excused 
from  the  table,  she  went  to  get  on  her 
garden  bonnet  and  apron,  and  go  post-haste 
to  "  South  America."  Poor  little  traveller ! 
-She  was  not  to  see  the  Andes  in  their  beauty. 
.Destruction  had  gone  in  among  the  minia 
ture  mountains,  as  if  volcanoes,  earthquakes 
,and  tornadoes  had  been  busy  doing  their 
work.  It  was  in  vain  to  look  for  Sorata  or 


OVERTUKNIXGS.  51 

Chimborazo.  They  were  not  to  be  distin 
guished  from  the  ignoble  heaps  of  earth 
about  them.  The  bed  of  the  Amazon  was 
half  filled  up,  and  Terra  del  Fuego  had  de 
serted  Cape  Horn,  and  taken  up  its  abode 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Orinoco. 

Carrie  actually  burst  into  tears.  All  her 
labor  in  vain  1  Who  could  have  done  the 
mischief?  She  was  at  a  loss  for  a  conjec 
ture.  The  enemy  was  no  four-footed  crea 
ture,  to  be  forgiven  for  its  very  lack  of  the 
mind  that  had  helped  Carrie  to  plan  her 
favorite  undertaking.  No !  it  was  plain  that 
shovel  and  hoe  had  been  wielded  to  cause 
the  terrible  destruction.  "Who  could  it 
be  ?  "  repeated  Carrie.  "  So  unkind !  Just 
as  I  was  ready  to  put  on  the  powdered  mar 
ble  for  snow  on  the  tops  of  the  mountains. 
It  is  too  bad  !  " 

"  What  is  too  bad  ?  "  said  the  voice  of  Mr. 
Grant,  who  had  his  own  reasons  for  repair 
ing  to  the  unfortunate  spot. 


52  UNDER   THE   PEAR  TREE. 

Carrie  turned  her  flushed  face  toward 
the  speaker.  Mr.  Grant's  arms  were  full  of 
leaden  pipes  and  troughs,  through  which  the 
Orinoco,  La  Plata,  and  Amazon  were  in 
tended  to  flow. 

"  Only  see,  Mr.  Grant,  what  somebody 
has  done !  The  Andes  are  all  knocked 
down,  and  Terra  del  Fuego  moved  clear  up 
here,  and  my  bucket  of  sand  for  the  sea 
shore  all  upset  right  in  the  middle  of  Pata 
gonia  !  It  is  too  bad ! " 

"  Indeed  it  is  too  bad ! "  said  Mr.  Grant. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  look  at  it ! "  exclaimed 
Carrie,  as  she  darted  away,  ashamed  to  show 
before  Mr.  Grant  how  thoroughly  she  was 
vexed. 

Under  the  old  pear  tree  she  soon  found 
herself  seated,  and  then  her  head  dropped 
upon  her  hands,  and  she  had  a  good  hearty 
cry,  as  much  from  anger  as  from  sorrow. 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  cry  about  it,"  said  Carrie 
to  herself,  when  the  first  burst  of  feeling 


OVERTURNINGS.  53 

was  over.  The  currant  bushes  stood  off 
from  the  green  circle,  the  pear  tree  scat 
tered  its  shower  of  blossoms,  and  Carrie's 
mind  flew  back  to  the  moment  when  she  had 
braced  herself  against  that  sturdy  old  trunk, 
fancying  she  was  ready  to  be  a  martyr,  to 
suffer  all  for  Jesus'  sake. 

What  was  the  great  trial  that  had  so 
roused  her  temper  and  filled  her  with  dis 
appointment  ?  The  result  of  the  amusement 
of  a  few  leisure  hours  had  been  overthrown ; 
work  which  she  could  renew  on  a  better 
plan,  and  yet  she  had  so  utterly  lost  her  self- 
command,  that  not  even  the  presence  of  a 
stranger  could  keep  her  from  expressing  her 
anger.  Was  this  bearing  patiently  the  little 
crosses  of  her  daily  life  ?  Ah,  no  ! 

Carrie  looked  about  her,  and  thought  of 
her  pleasant  home,  her  kind  parents,  her 
numberless  blessings,  and  deep  shame  over 
came  her  that  such  a  trifle  should  have  had 
power  so  to  annoy  her. 


54  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

There,  under  the  old  pear  tree,  she  asked 
the  present  Saviour  to  forgive  her  anger 
and  impatience,  and  to  send  her  more  of  his 
own  sweet  submissive  spirit. 

Carrie  jumped  up,  saying  to  herself,  "  I 
will  go  at  once  and  tell  Mr.  Grant  that  I 
am  sorry  I  was  so  vexed,  and  that  I  don't 
mean  to  mind  it,  but  begin  right  away  to 
make  it  over  again,  better  than  before.'7 

Instinctively  Carrie  hastened  to  the  spot 
where  she  had  left  Mr.  Grant,  though  she 
had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  was  linger 
ing  to  mourn  over  the  ruin  of  the  geographi 
cal  garden. 

Mr.  Grant  had  done  more  than  exclaim 
at  the  mischief;  he  had  stooped  down  to 
examine  the  marks  of  two  small  feet  that 
he  found  in  the  soft  earth.  Beyond  the 
grass  plat,  in  the  centre  of  which  South 
America  had  been  located,  were  the  vege- 
tabje  beds,  made  soft  and  smooth  by  the 
gardener's  busy  rake.  Across  that  even 


OVERTURNINGS.  55 

surface  those  same  small  feet  had  stepped 
remorselessly,  leaving  deep  tracks  as  if  the 
retreat  had  been  made  in  haste.  With  the 
keen  look  of  a  policeman,  Mr.  Grant  fol 
lowed  these  traces  as  they  here  and  there 
appeared,  until  he  came  to  a  thick  clump 
of  lilac  bushes,  quite  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  garden.  From  behind  this  screen,  a 
pair  of  wide  open  black  eyes  were  watching 
him.  As  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  a 
small  figure  jumped  from  side  to  side,  and 
at  length  Rache  stood  out  openly  before  him. 

"0,  Massa!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  didn't 
do  nothin'.  Don't  whip  me.  I  never  went 
near  them  Andes  I" 

Mr.  Grant  took  her  sternly  by  the  arm, 
and  led  her  to  the  scene  which  had  so 
lately  been  Carrie's  pride. 

"  I  didn't !  I  didn't !  "  screamed  Rache, 
more  and  more  vehemently,  as  she  ap 
proached  the  spot. 

"  I'll  teach  you  how  to  meddle,  you  mis- 


56  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

chief-maker  I"  said  Mr.  Grant,  looking 
about  angrily  for  a  switch. 

Not  a  switch,  but  Carrie's  imploring  face, 
met  his  eyes. 

"  0  please,  Mr.  Grant,  don't  whip  her," 
said  Carrie,  eagerly.  "  I  don't  believe  she 
knew  what  harm  she  was  doing.  I  am 
quite  ashamed  of  myself  that  I  was  so 
vexed  just  now.  It  was  not  right.  I'll  tell 
you  what  I  mean  to  do  ;  I  am  going  to  fix  it 
all  over  better  than  it  was  before,  and 
Rache  shall  help  me,  if  you  will  let  her,  and 
I  will  tell  her  just  what  I  am  doing.  You 
are  sorry,  I  know  you  are,  Rache." 

Mr.  Grant  looked  into  Carrie's  face  ; 
there  was  something  in  its  sweet,  cheerful 
expression  that  calmed  his  anger,  and  drew 
him  lovingly  towards  his  little  friend. 
Rache  opened  her  eyes  even  wider  than 
usual.  When  she  had  seen  Carrie  coming 
up,  she  thought  her  doom  sealed,  and  her 
whipping  sure.  This  free  forgiveness  she 


OVERTURNIXGS.  57 

did  not  understand.  It  so  thoroughly  con 
fused  her,  that  sl*e  blubbered  out,  "  There 
warn't  no  gold  there,  nor  silver,  nor  no 
such  things  as  massa  said.  I  never  found 
nothin'  ;  I  never  took  nothin'  ;  there 
warn't  nothin'  but  dirt  there." 

Carrie  could  not  help  laughing,  as  she  un 
derstood  at  once  what  had  prompted  Rache 
to  her  thorough  exploration  of  the  minia 
ture  South  America.  The  ignorant  crea 
ture  had  heard  her  master  talking  at  the 
table  of  the  Andes,  and  thought  the  treas 
ures  of  gold  which  he  had  spoken,  were 
hidden  under  the  heaps  of  earth  that  Car 
rie  had  been  so  carefully  raising.  Half 
from  curiosity,  and  half  from  the  desire  to 
pilfer,  which  seemed  her  second  nature, 
Rache  had  plied  hoe  and  spade  to  find  the 
buried  treasure. 

"  These  are  only  play  Andes,  not  the  real, 
big,  big  mountains,"  said  Carrie,  conde 
scending  to  explain. 


58  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

Mr.  Grant's  hand  was  still  holding  tight 
ly  on  to  Radio's  arm,  bul  he  now  relaxed 
his  hold,  and  said  sternly,  "  Go  in  to  your 
mistress,  and  if  you  are  found  in  any  such 
mischief  again,  you  will  not  get  off  so  easily. 
You  are  to  thank  Miss  Carrie  that  you  miss 
a  whipping  this  time ! " 

"  Tankee,  Miss  Carr ! "  said  Raclie,  drop 
ping  an  odd  little  curtsey,  while  there  was 
a  lively  blink  in  the  corner  of  her  eye,  that 
looked  like  any  thing  but  penitence. 

"  I  am  going  to  begin  all  over  again," 
said  Carrie,  cheerily,  "  and  I  shall  fix  my 
seashore  first.  The  grass  is  for  the  ocean  ; 
it  waves,  you  know,  in  the  wind.  All 
round  the  coast  I  am  going  to  scatter  this 
sand  with  the  pebbles  in  it,  and  those  little 
flat  stones  are  for  the  stoney  plains  of 
Patagonia.  I  picked  them  up  in  the  play 
ground  at  recess  to-day.  0  it  will  be  splen 
did!" 

Carrie  went  vigorously  to  work.     Mr. 


OVEKTURNINGS.  59 

Grant  looked  on  for  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  then  he  said  quickly,  "  What  made  you 
change  your  mind  so  suddenly,  when  you 
went  away  with  those  big  tears  in  your 
eyes?'7 

Carrie  looked  full  into  the  inquirer's 
face,  as  she  said  frankly  : 

"I  cried  hard  under  the  pear  tree,  and 
then  I  happened  to  think  that  it  was  wrong 
to  take  little  trials  so,  that  I  ought  to  bear 
them  patiently,  and  be  very  thankful  that  I 
had  no  worse  sent  to  me.  I  am  very,  very 
sorry  I  was  so  angry.  I  was  coming  to 
tell  you  so  when  I  found  you  here  with 
Rachel" 

"  Who  taught  you  so  well  about  bearing 
troubles  ? "  asked  Mr.  Grant. 

"  Mother  teaches  me  every  thing  good," 
said  Carrie.  "  She  says  our  little  troubles 
are  steps  to  a  great  ladder  that  leads  us  up 
to  heaven  ;  that  is,  if  we  take  them  patient 
ly,  because  our  dear  Saviour  sends  them  to 


60  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

us,  and  every  one  we  bear  as  we  ought, 
takes  us  up  higher,  and  nearer  to  Christ." 

"  And  what  about  the  great  troubles  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Grant,  thoughtfully. 

"  Mother  says  they  are  long  steps  on  the 
ladder,  where  the  bars  are  far  apart,  and 
hard  to  climb.  When  we  come  to  those, 
she  says  we  must  trust  Christ  to  help  us, 
and  it  will  be  just  as  if  he  had  put  his  hands 
under  our  arms  and  lifted  us  up,  and  we 
shall  find  afterwards  that  our  great  trouble 
has  brought  us  ever  so  much  nearer  heaven. 
She  told  me  that  when  I  felt  so  badly  when 
grandma  died,  and  I  tried  her  way,  and  I 
know  what  she  said  was  true." 

As  Carrie  paused,  she  looked  very  earn 
estly  at  Mr.  Grant. 

"  I'll  come  by-and-by  and  help  you  about 
your  rivers,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  turning  away, 
and  wandering  off  to  another  part  of  the 
garden. 

Mr.  Grant  wanted  a  few  moments  of  quiet 


OVERTURNIXGS.  61 

thought.  Light-hearted  as  he  seemed,  he 
deeply  felt  his  present  position.  Without 
means  and  with  no  career  open  before  him, 
the  world  seemed  very  dark  to  him.  He 
had  no  home  for  the  young  wife  he  so  dearly 
loved,  and  even  her  presence  at  times  was 
painful  to  him,  it  so  reminded  him  of  his  in 
ability  so  provide  for  her  as  he  desired. 
Through  the  influence  of  a  friend  he  had 
obtained  the  clerkship  at  Washington  from 
which  he  was  now  removed.  That  friend 
no  longer  had  the  power  to  serve  him,  and 
but  for  Mr.  Eaton's  timely  invitation,  he 
woiild  not  have  known  where  to  find  a  home, 
without  the  painful  consciousness  of  forming 
debts  he  might  never  pay.  Mr.  Grant  had 
come  to  one  of  the  "great  troubles"  of  which 
Carrie  had  spoken,  but  it  had  never  struck 
him  that  it  was  to  be  borne  in  the  way  she 
described. 

From  afar  in  the  past  rose  to  his  mind  the 
teachings  of  his  own  mother,  her  prayers  at 
6 


62  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

his  bedside,  her  words  of  blessing  as  her 
thin  hands  were  laid  upon  his  head.  A  chord 
had  been  touched  in  the  stranger's  heart, 
would  it  bring  forth  heavenly  music?  Across 
the  garden  he  could  see  the  busy  little  girl 
repairing  the  mischief  that  had  been  wrought. 
Why  should  not  he  so  labor  to  repair  his 
broken  fortunes.  Why  should  he  yield  to 
the  despair  that  was  threatening  him,  even 
in  the  midst  of  his  lightness  and  seeming 
mirth? 

Such  and  more  serious  questionings  throng 
ed  the  mind  of  Mr.  Grant,  as  he  paced  up 
and  down  the  long  path  in  the  centre  of  the 
garden. 

Often  had  a  dear  old  lady  walked  there 
to  and  fro  among  her  flowers.  Sweet  had 
been  her  meditations,  precious  her  commu 
nion  with  the  unseen  Saviour  by  her  side. 
Many  had  been  her  prayers  for  the  pilgrims 
of  earth  who  should  tread  those  pathways 


OVERTURNINGS.  63 


when  she  should  be  at  rest.  Had  that  young 
stranger  come  hither  to  share  the  blessing 
that  lingers  about  the  dwelling  place  of 
every  aged  saint  ? 


VI. 


F  Carrie  Eaton  had  had  her  way,  she 
would  have  lived  in  a  land  of  per 
petual  drought.  The  day  never  seemed 
to  come  on  which  she  was  glad  to  see  the 
rain,  and  the  pattering  of  drops  on  the  win 
dows  was  too  often  followed  by  a  disagree 
able  murmuring  and  a  flow  of  salt  tears 
from  our  little  friend.  Ah,  if  the  grumblers 
were  listened  to,  the  poor  fields  and  flowers 
would  fare  but  ill,  and  decay  and  desolation 
would  take  the  place  of  greenness  and 
beauty.  We  may  well  lift  up  our  hearts  in 
thankfulness  that  the  clouds  drop  their  bless 
ings  in  spite  of  the  disappointments  of  pleas 
ure  lovers,  and  the  complainings  of  those 
who  would  have  perpetual  sunshine. 

Something  like  this  Mrs.  Eaton  was  say- 

(64) 


THE   LITTLE  HEATHEN.  65 

ing  to  Carrie  on  the  second  morning  after 
the  arrival  of  the  much  talked  of  guests. 
Carrie  had  a  thousand  reasons,  she  said,  why 
she  did  not  want  it  to  rain,  but  on  close  ques 
tioning  the  ciphers  dropped  off  very  rapidly, 
and  the  one  came  near  standing  all  alone. 
However,  Carrie  managed  to  muster  several 
reasons  which  really  were  to  her  very  strong. 
She  did  not  want  to  stay  away  from  school, 
as  her  lost  lessons  could  never  be  made  up. 
She  hated  to  be  irregular,  etc.,  and  then 
there  was  her  garden,  the  sea-shore  just  com 
pleted,  and  the  process  of  raising  the  moun 
tains  ready  to  be  begun  anew  in  earnest. 
Yet  it  was  very  hard  to  bear  a  rainy  day ; 
particularly  hard,  Carrie  felt  it,  as  Mr. 
Grant  walked  off  to  the  study  with  her 
father,  and  she  was  left  for  the  morning  with 
her  mother  and  the  young  wife. 

Carrie  had  somehow  conceived  a  dislike 
to  Mrs.  Grant,  possibly  because  the  little 
lady  had  taken  very  little  notice  of  her,  and 


66  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

Carrie  being  an  only  child,  was  accustomed 
to  particular  kindness  and  consideration. 
Mrs.  Grant  seemed  indeed  to  be  in  a  listless 
state,  indifferent  to  every  body  and  every 
thing  about  her,  always  excepting  her  hus 
band,  whose  entrance  was  sure  to  bring  a 
bright  smile  to  her  face.  She  missed  the 
gayety  of  the  city,  she  missed  the  boarding- 
house  gossip,  and  the  chat  about  dress  to 
which  she  had  been  accustomed.  She  had 
not  realized  that  she  had  been  leading  an 
idle  life.  Her  time  had  been  taken  up  with 
going  from  room  to  room,  or  in  shopping 
and  visiting,  so  that  she  had  not  thought  of 
the  possibility  of  regular  occupation. 

In  the  quietness  of  Mrs.  Eaton's  home, 
Mrs.  Grant  felt  herself  out  of  place.  While 
her  kind  hostess  sat  .beside  her  with  her 
busy  needle  in  her  fingers,  and  her  pleasant 
face  turned  now  and  then  kindly  toward 
her,  Mrs.  Grant  did  not  feel  quite  at  ease 
with  her  helpless  little  hands  lying  crossed 


THE   LITTLE   HEATHEN.  67 

upon  the  embroidered  skirt  appearing  be 
tween  the  folds  of  her  open  wrapper. 

When  Carrie  began  to  murmur  about  the- 
weather,  Mrs.  Grant's  sympathies  were  with 
her.  The  weary  guest  fancied  that  the 
laugour  and  discomfort  she  experienced 
were  attributable  to  the  rain,  quite  forget 
ting  that  she  had  suffered  from  precisely  the 
same  feelings  the  day  before.  She  listened, 
as  Mrs.  Eaton  kindly  talked  to  Carrie,  and 
was  much  surprised  when  the  little  girl 
frankly  said,  "  I  am  sorry  I  fretted  about 
the  rain,  mother  ;  I  see  it  was  not  right.  I 
mean  to  be  as  cheerful  as  I  can  all  day,  so 
you  must  keep  me  busy  to  help  me  to  hold 
to  my  resolution." 

Carrie  put  her  little  chair  beside  her  mo 
ther,  and  soon  her  fingers  were  moving  to 
and  fro  in  a  way  that  proved  that  she  was 
no  stranger  to  the  needle,  though  their  ac 
quaintance  had  not  ripened  into  friendship. 
Mrs.  Eaton  tried  to  draw  Mrs.  Grant  into 


68  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 


some  pleasant  conversation,  but  something 
seemed  to  be  disturbing  the  stranger's 
mind  ;  at  length  she  said,  "  I  have  not 
any  work  with  me,  I  am  not  much  used  to 
sewing." 

There  was  a  wistful,  unsettled  look  about 
the  speaker.  Carrie  knew  very  well  the 
miseries  of  idleness,  and  she  ventured  to  say, 
"  Maybe  Mrs.  Grant  would  read  aloud  to  us. 
Would  you,  Mrs.  Grant?  my  teacher  lent 
me  a  book  yesterday,  which  she  said  she  was 
sure  mamma  would  like.  Shall  I  get  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  shouldn't  mind  reading  out,"  said 
Mrs.  Grant,  with  a  look  of  relief. 

Carrie  sprang  away  up  stairs ;  she  was 
sure  there  was  a  rustling  in  her  little  room 
the  moment  before  she  opened  the  door,  yet 
there  was  no  one  in  it,  at  least  Carrie  saw 
no  one.  Rache  had  slipped  under  the  bed 
in  a  hurry,  not  a  vestige  of  her  skirt  was  in 
sight,  and  her  black  eyes  peering  through 
the  fringe  of  the  spread  only  saw  Carrie 


THE   LITTLE   HEATHEN.  69 


come  in  in  a  hurry  and  go  away  with  a  lit 
tle  red  book  in  her  hand. 

The  story  opened  in  a  sprightly  and  at 
tractive  manner,  and  Mrs.  Grant  was  an 
agreeable  reader,  so  that  the  party  in  the 
breakfast-room  soon  wore  a  very  cheerful 
and  easy  look  as  they  were  gathered  in  a 
group  near  the  long  window. 

Mrs.  Grant  was  accustomed  to  novel-read 
ing,  and  had  her  own  views  about  certain 
matchless  heroes  and  persecuted  heroines, 
but  to  such  simple  stories  as  she  held  in  her 
hand  she  was  almost  a  stranger.  There  was 
something  in  the  nature  and  truth  of  the 
descriptions  that  charmed  her,  and  made  her 
feel  at  once  at  home  among  the  characters 
portrayed.  The  pure,  the  true,  and  the  holy 
were  so  inwrought  with  the  whole  narrative, 
that  there  was  no  escaping  the  pious  teach 
ing  in  every  page.  Mrs.  Grant  was  inter 
ested  and  moved,  she  could  hardly  tell  why. 
The  sermons  to  which  she  had  lately  listened 


70  UNDER   THE   PEAR  TREE. 


had  been  prepared  for  men — deep-thinking 
men — and  little  Mrs.  Grant,  in  her  butterfly 
garments,  had  been  glad  to  shrink  into  a 
corner  of  the  pew  for  a  quiet  doze,  while 
the  clergyman  set  forth  arguments  and  pro 
cesses  of  reasoning  quite  above  her  compre 
hension.  Now  she  found  her  conscience 
aroused,  and  plain,  simple  lessons  of  duty 
forced  home  upon  her. 

Mrs.  Grant  had  but  the  mind  and  feelings 
of  a  child,  and  now  she  had  found  a  kind  of 
reading  that  spoke  to  her  very  heart. 

"  Carrie,"  said  Mrs.  Eaton,  after  a  half- 
hour  of  the  reading,  "  Carrie,  I  have  some 
thing  for  you  to  do  up-stairs  ;  so  we  shall 
have  to  leave  Mrs.  Grant  to  herself  for  a 
little  while  if  she  will  excuse  us." 

"  I  shall  not  be  lonely  if  you  won't  mind 
my  reading  on,"  said  the  lady,  with  an  ap 
proving  look  at  the  little  book. 

Carrie  had  felt  inclined  the  moment  before 
to  rebel  against  this  interruption  of  their 


THE   LITTLE   HEATHEN.  71 

pleasant  occupation,  but  all  such  thoughts 
gave  way  to  a  sudden  gush  of  pleasure. 
While  she  was  folding  up  her  work,  she  was 
silently  asking  her  Heavenly  Father  to  send 
his  Spirit  to  the  young  wife,  and  to  teach 
her  holy  things  while  her  eyes  were  in  the 
book  in  which  she  seemed  so  much  inter 
ested.  "  If  it  had  not  rained  we  should  not 
have  had  the  reading,  and  then,  who  knows 
how  much  good  might  have  never  been 
done."  So  thought  Carrie,  and  she  was 
more  than  ever  ashamed  of  the  discontent 
to  which  she  had  yielded  at  the  sight  of  the 
storm. 

The  work  which  Mrs.  Eaton  had  in  store 
for  Carrie  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  a 
thorough  looking  over  of  her  drawers,  to  be 
followed  by  such  mending  as  the  various 
articles  might  require.  The  mother  encour 
aged  her  little  daughter  by  telling  her  that 
she  was  going  to  be  at  the  same  business, 
and  soon  they  would  be  dropping  their  con- 


72  UNDER   THE   PEAK   TREE. 


tributions  into  the  great  mending-basket 
that  was  placed  between  the  doors  to  the 
two  chambers. 

Carrie  was  in  no  mood  for  murmuring. 
She  closed  the  door  to  her  small,  quiet  room, 
turned  the  key  very  gently,  and  then  knelt 
down  to  ask  God  to  help  her  to  take  more 
pleasantly  the  little  trials  and  annoyances 
of  every  hour,  and  to  realize  that  every 
such  effort  is  acceptable  to  the  meek  and 
loving  Saviour. 

Carrie  had  hardly  done  her  prayer,  when 
she  was  conscious  of  a  deep,  unnatural 
breathing  near  her.  She  was  startled  for 
the  moment,  as  there  seemed  no  one  in  the 
room.  Lifting  up  the  bed-spread,  she*  saw 
Rache  crouched  down,  and  with  her  hands 
clasped  over  her  mouth  to  ensure  perfect  si 
lence.  Her  lungs  would  have  their  use,  and 
the  long  gasps  were  the  louder  for  the  effort 
it  was  necessary  for  her  to  make  to  restrain 
them. 


THE   LITTLE   HEATHEN.  73 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Rache  ?  "  said 
Carrie,  quickly. 

There  was  something  very  painful  to  Car 
rie  in  the  idea  of  being  watched  in  such  a 
moment  of  retirement. 

Rache  gave  a  low  giggle,  but  did  not  of 
fer  to  leave  her  hiding-place. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  out  of  my  room,"  said 
Carrie,  with  all  the  dignity  she  could  com 
mand. 

Rache  still  remained  motionless.,  only  an*- 
swering  by  a  grin. 

"  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Grant,"  said  Carrie,  mov 
ing  quickly  towards  the  door,  and  unlocking 
it.  At  that  moment  she  remembered  how 
she  had  left  Mrs.  Grant  occupied.  Should 
she  interrupt  her  ?  Should  she  procure  for 
Rache  the  whipping  with  which  her  master 
had  threatened  her  ? 

Carrie  stood  with  her  hand  irresolutely 
on  the  lock.  Rache,  meanwhile,  managed 
to  thrust  under  the  bedding,  the  handful  of" 
7 


74  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


things  which  she  had  covered  with  her  dress. 
Ribbons,  pins,  dolls,  clothing,  and  a  cake  of 
soap  were  promiscuously  huddled  together 
between  the  mattress  and  the  bedstead,  and 
then  Rache  was  ready  to  leave  her  retreat. 

"  Ise  goin',  Miss  Carr — Ise  jes  a  gittin7 
up,"  said  Rache,  standing  on  her  feet  in  the 
little  room.  "  I  ant  done  nothin',  but  jes  lie 
down  under  Miss  Carr's  bed." 

"  You  go  now,  Rache,  like  a  good  girl, 
and  I  won't  tell  Mrs.  Grant,"  said  Carrie, 
in  w'hat  she  meant  to  have  been  a  very  con 
descending  manner. 

"  Tank  7ee,  Miss  Carr,"  said  Rache,  with 
one  of  her  queer  bobbing  courtesies,  and  a 
mysterious  twinkle  of  her  round  eyes. 

Carrie  soon  had  good  reason  to  suspect 
that  Rache  had  explored  other  parts  of  the 
room,  than  the  hiding-place  where  she  was 
found.  There  was  not  a  bag  or  a  box  in 
Carrie's  drawers  that  had  not  been  thor 
oughly  Tiimmaged,  and  as  to  her  favorite 


THE   LITTLE   HEATHEN.  75 


doll,  Miss  Fanny,  she  seemed  just  recover 
ing  from  an  attack  of  malignant  small  pox. 
Waxen  face,  neck  and  arms  were  all  scarred 
over,  where  some  mischievous  nails  had 
nipped  out  little  morsels  with  industrious 
zeal.  Never  was  a  fine  complexion  more 
suddenly  ruined.  Miss  Fanny's  hair,  too, 
had  been  under  an  unskillful  barber,  and  her 
stiff,  glossy  curls  were  transformed  into  a 
frizzed  mass,  much  in  the  style  of  Eache's 
own  wool.  Yes, — there,  in  the  midst  of  the 
general  confusion,  Rache  had  attempted  a 
braid,  in  close  imitation  of  her  own. 

Carrie  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or 
to  cry,  her  misfortune  had  come  in  so  ridicu 
lous  a  form.  "  Mother  !  Mother  !  do  look 
at  Fanny  1"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  burst  into 
her  mother's  room.  "  See  what  Rache  must 
have  done  to  her !  Indeed  it  is  too  bad  !  I 
wish  she  would  go  home  to-morrow.  She 
has  ransacked  all  my  things,  and  turned  ev 
erything  upside  down,  and  then  when  I 


76  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 


found  her  under  my  bed,  she  said  she  had 
not  done  anything  at  all, '  but  jes  lie  under 
Miss  Carr's  bed.' " 

Carrie  had  no  little  brothers  and  sisters 
to  meddle  with  her  possessions,  and  it  was 
quite  a  new  thing  to  her  to  have  her  rights 
so  invaded.  Not  that  she  was  the  most  par 
ticular  person  in  the  world  ;  but  she  liked  to 
do  her  own  rummaging,  and  wear  out  her 
own  playthings  in  a  lawful  way. 

Her  mother  did  not  laugh  at  Carrie's 
annoyance,  though  Miss  Fanny  was  droll  to 
look  upon.  Very  kindly  Mrs.  Eaton  soothed 
her  little  daughter,  until  she  thought  she 
was  quite  composed,  but  Carrie  suddenly 
broke  out,  "  If  I  were  sure  this  was  all ;  but 
how  can  I  tell  what  I  shall  have  to  bear 
from  her.  0  dear,  how  pleasant  and  quiet 
it  used  to  be  when  only  you  and  father  and 
I  were  here  ! " 

"  Carrie,"  said  her  mother,  gently, "  I  know 
you  respect  and  admire  the  courage  of  the 


THE   LITTLE   HEATHEN.  77 

good  missionaries  who  have  left  their  own 
homes  to  go  into  far  away  foreign  countries,  to 
teach  the  poor  heathen  about  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  You  have  thought  it  wonderful  that 
they  should  be  willing  to  risk  the  terrible 
fevers  of  hot  climates,  and  the  long  dark 
winters  of  the  cold  ones.  You  have  pitied 
them  in  the  midst  of  reptiles  or  wild  beasts, 
or  suffering  for  the  want  of  the  very  necessa 
ries  of  life.  I  wonder  if  you  ever  thought 
of  what  it  must  be  to  live  among  a  people 
who  have  no  idea  of  right  and  wrong,  to 
whom  it  seems  far  more  natural  to  lie  and 
steal  than  to  be  honest  and  truthful.  Ah, 
my  dear  child,  many  missionaries  have  been 
robbed  of  every  loose  article  of  clothing, 
every  pencil,  book  or  paper,  by  the  ignorant 
people  they  have  gone  to  teach.  Yet  they 
have  borne  all,  hoping  by  love  and  patience 
to  bring  these  poor  creatures  to  a  know 
ledge  of  the  only  Lord.  Now,  darling,  I 
believe  you  love  our  Lord  Jesus,  and  want 


78  UNDER  THE   PEAR   TREE. 

to  do  something  for  him.  Suppose  you  con 
sider  that  Rache  is  a  little  heathen,  one  for 
•whom  you  have  so  often  prayed.  You  have 
"been  very  willing  to  give  your  pennies  to 
send  Bibles  to  the  heathen  far  away.  Let 
me  see  if  you  can  give  patience  to  this  little 
heathen,  who  has  come  among  us.  It  is  very 
plain  that  no  one  has  ever  taught  her  to 
love  and  fear  God,  and  try  to  do  his  will. 
Perhaps  it  is  to  learn  this  blessed  lesson 
that  she  is  sent  to  us.  Perhaps  the  Lord 
Jesus  has  given  you  this  poor  lost  lamb  to 
lead  into  his  fold.  "Will  you  try  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how,  mother,  she  is  so  queer. 
She  is  not  like  anybody  I  ever  saw  before," 
said  Carrie,  despondingly. 

"  You  can  at  least  pray  for  her,  and  try 
to  be  kind  and  gentle  to  her,  and  perhaps 
the  way  may  be  opened  for  you  to  do  her 
good.  Try  to  look  upon  her  as  a  little 
heathen  child,  to  whom  you  are  willing  to 
be  a  young  missionary.  You  can  at  least 


THE   LITTLE   HEATHEN.  79 


speak  her  language.  She  can  understand 
you  when  you  talk  to  her,  and  she  can  be 
influenced  by  a  faithful  example.  "  Go  ye 
into  all  the  world  and  preach  the  Gospel  to 
every  creature,"  was  our  Lord's  last  com 
mand.  You  cannot  go  into  foreign  countries 
as  the  apostles  did,  and  as  the  missionaries 
do  now ;  but  will  you  not  try  to  do  what 
you  can  for  this  little  ignorant  child,  who  is 
here  under  our  roof?  You  are  not  called 
to  face  danger  and  leave  your  home  and 
friends,  but  if  you  give  your '  mite '  cheerfully, 
and  do  your  duty  faithfully,  you  will  not 
lose  your  reward." 

"  I  will  try,  mother,"  said  Carrie,  earnestly; 
"  but  indeed,  mother,  I  think  I  should  be  as 
poor  a  missionary  as  a  martyr." 

"  Remember,  darling,  you  are  not  to  be 
judged  for  being  unfit  for  duties  not  laid 
upon  you.  Bear  the  trials  that  are  sent  to 
you,  do  the  duties  put  in  your  way,  and  he 
who  gives  the  martyr  his  crown,  will  have 


80  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


his  great,  his  exceeding  great  reward  for 
you." 

Carrie  went  silently  to  her  own  room. 
Rache  was  not  bodily  there,  but  she  was 
present  to  Carrie's  mind,  and  as  she  bowed 
down  to  pray,  it  was  for  Rache,  the  little 
heathen,  her  prayers  ascended  ;  it  was  for 
strength  to  lead  this  lost  child  aright,  that 
her  earnest  petitions  were  offered. 


VII. 


fHREE  weeks  had  passed  swiftly  away 
since  the  arrival  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Grant  at  Carrie's  home.  The  young 
wife  was  beginning  to  find  the  pleasure  of 
industry,  though  she  had  yet  to  acquire  a 
taste  for  being  useful.  She  was  making  her 
first  attempt  at  embroidery,  and  already  a 
dismal-looking  greyish-white  dog  appeared 
on  her  canvas,  with  his  two  black  eyes  pain 
fully  squinting  at  the  world  opening  before 
him.  Mrs.  Eaton  kindly  gave  her  interest 
to  the  new  undertaking,  and  was  ready  to 
notice  the  progress  of  the  work,  and  give 
what  praise  she  could  to  the  execution,  as 
often  as  she  was  called  upon  for  such 
friendly  favors. 

Mr.    Grant,    meanwhile,    was    spending 

(81) 


82  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

much  of  his  time  with  his  kind  host ;  but 
Carrie  was  astonished  to  find  her  father 
having  so  much  time  at  his  command,  and 
ever  ready  to  ride  or  walk  with  the  son  of 
his  old  friend.  She  did  not  know  how  far 
into  the  night  that  father  had  to  be  bend 
ing  over  his  books  and  papers  to  make  up 
for  the  hours  given  to  his  guest.  Mr.  Ea 
ton  had  undertaken  a  good  work,  and  he 
was  determined  to  carry  it  through. 

Carrie's  interest  in  Mr.  Grant  increased 
every  day.  She  had  many  kind  offices  for 
which  to  thank  the  stranger,  and  not  the 
least  of  these  was  his  effective  assistance  to 
her  in  carrying  out  her  darling  project. 

The  Andes  now  rose  up  snow-crowned, 
(i.  e.,  tipped  with  white  marble  dust,)  and 
the  volcanoes,  though  generally  quiet,  occa 
sionally  poured  out  alarming  quantities  of 
smoke  from  the  tin  boxes  ingeniously  con 
cealed  within  them,  and  the  fumes  of  burn 
ing  cloth  were  perceptible  far  beyond  Cape 


THE   WOODS.  83 


Horn.  The  pepper  grass,  mignonette  and 
"balsams, that  were  to  represent  the  dense 
forests  of  Brazil,  were  coming  up  so  thick 
that  the  sun  had  scarcely  a  chance  to  peep 
at  the  brown  earth  on  the  spot  where  they 
had  been  so  lavishly  sown.  The  water 
works  were  completed,  that  having  been 
Mr.  Grant's  special  department,  though  he 
made  himself  generally  useful  in  all.  But 
one  thing  was  needed,  the  winding  leaden 
troughs,  which  served  as  beds  for  the  rivers, 
were  to  be  lined  with  moss,  and  then  Ama 
zon,  Orinoco  and  La  Plata  were  to  pour 
their  torrents  along  to  represent  the  riv 
ers  of  South  America,  without  even  a  fur 
row  marking  the  course  of  the  lesser 
streams. 

A  Saturday  afternoon  had  been  chosen  for 
Carrie's  trip  to  the  woods  to  get  the  requi 
site  quantity  of  moss.  Mr.  Grant  was  to 
be  her  companion,  and  very  happy  she  look 
ed  as  he  held  her  by  the  hand,  and  playfully 


84  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

shouldered  her  basket  as  he  gave  the  order, 
"  Forward,  march  ! " 

They  soon  found  there  was  an  addition  to 
their  company — a  recruit  who  had  not  had 
the  captain's  permission  to  join  them.  This 
was  no  other  than  Rache,  who  seemed  to 
have  a  mysterious  delight  in  always  keeping 
Carrie  in  sight,  and  watching  all  her  move 
ments.  If  Carrie  sat  down  with  her  Bible 
under  the  old  pear  tree,  Rache  was  sure  to 
be  peeping  at  her  from  among  the  currant 
bushes.  If  the  little  girl  shut  herself  in 
her  own  room,  and  firmly  locked  her  door, 
Rache's  eye  was  at  the  key-hole,  vigilantly 
inspecting  the  proceedings  going  on  with 
in. 

Poor  Carrie  was  often  tempted  to  ex 
claim,  what  must  be  the  trials  of  the  mis 
sionaries  if  one  domestic  heathen  is  such  a 
pest!  Thus  far,  her  efforts  for  Rache's 
benefit  had  been  most  unsuccessful.  If  Car 
rie  tried  to  read  or  talk  to  her,  she  was 


THE   WOODS.  85 


met  either  by  her  unmeaning  giggle,  or  by 
such  odd  answers  as  set  the  young  teacher 
laughing  in  the  midst  of  her  grave  dis 
course. 

Carrie  was  particularly  disappointed  at 
seeing  Rache  add  herself  to  the  moss- 
gathering  party,  as  she  had  lately  had  seve 
ral  pleasant  talks  with  Mr.  Grant  about 
heavenly  things,  and  she  feared  the  presence 
of  such  a  companion  would  irritate  the  not 
over  patient  master,  and  make  such  conver 
sation  impossible.  Carrie,  however,  con 
quered  her  annoyance,  and  inwardly  asked 
her-  heavenly  Friend  to  help  her  to  remem 
ber  that  her  Saviour  was  walking  with  her 
by  the  way,  and  to  make  the  afternoon 
profitable  to  the  little  heathen  as  well  as  to 
her  master.  Bobbing  backwards  and  for 
wards  went  Rache  ;  now  in  front  and  now 
in  the  rear  of  Mr.  Grant  and  Carrie.  At 
one  moment  she  came  up  with  her  hands 
full  of  most  unattractive  specimens  of  moss  ; 
8 


86  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

at  another,  she  was  climbing  a  young  tree 
and  swinging  from  its  topmost  branch  like 
a  squirrel. 

"  Here  is  a  pleasant  place,  Carrie ;  you 
had  better  sit  down  and  rest  awhile,"  said 
Mr.  Grant,  pointing  out  a  great  rock  at  the 
foot  of  some  tall  trees.  Carrie  took  her 
seat,  and  both  were  soon  occupied  in  ex 
ploring  the  treasures  of  the  basket,  while 
Rache  perched  herself  on  a  limb  above 
their  heads,  and  amused  herself  with  using 
her  sharp  teeth  to  strip  the  bark  from  a 
branch  near  her. 

"  If  I  were  a  queen,"  said  Carrie,  "  I'd 
have  a  bower,  with  everything  beautiful  in 
it  that  could  be  found.  The  carpet  should 
all  be  of  this  rich,  green  moss,  and  the  cur 
tains  of  wild  vines  that  blossomed  all  the 
year,  roses  should  look  in  at  the  windows, 
and  lilies  of  the  valley  should  hide  in  every 
dark  corner.  0  how  beautiful  I  would  have 
it!" 


THE   WOODS.  87 


"  I  am  afraid  even  a  queen  would  have  to 
let  the  mosquitoes  in  at  the  windows,  and 
risk  the  hiding  of  a  snake  in  the  thick  moss/7 
said  Mr.  Grant,  with  a  mischievous  smile. 

Carrie  looked  up  very  soberly,  as  she  an 
swered,  "  I  suppose  in  this  world  there  can't 
be  any  perfect  place,  either  in  a  bower  or  a 
palace.  But,  Mr.  Grant,  it  will  be  beautiful 
in  heaven,  when  we  walk  the  golden  streets 
and  hear  the  sound  of  the  river  of  the  water 
of  life.  What  lovely  things  we  shall  see  up 
there ! "  and  Carrie  pointed  toward  the 
clear  blue  sky. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  not  much  to  you  that  there 
will  be  no  sorrow  there  ?  "  said  Mr.  Grant, 
taking  the  grave  tone  of  his  little  companion. 

"  0,  yes  ;  no  sorrow  and  no  sickness,  no 
night,  no  sin,  no  death,  no  parting.  That  is 
what  grandmother  used  to  say,  and  now  she 
lias  gone  to  the  beautiful  land ! "  Carrie 
looked  up  into  the  far  off  sky,  and  was  silent 
a  few  moments. 


88  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

"  It  must  be  first  rate  there,"  said  Rache, 
making  her  comments  from  her  perch  above. 
"  Where  did  you  say,  Miss  Carr  ?  " 

"  Up  there,  in  God's  home ! "  said  Carrie, 
reverently. 

"And  your  ladder  of  self-denial  leads 
that  way  ?  "  said  Mr.  Grant. 

"  So  mother  says.  But  she  says,  if  we 
were  to  reach  the  very  gates  of  heaven  we 
could  not  enter  in  if  our  Saviour  had  not 
opened  it  for  us.  She  says,  the  best  ladder 
will  all  crumble  away,  and  seem  worth  noth 
ing  to  us  then,  for  we  shall  know  that  only 
for  Christ's  sake  we  enter  in." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Carrie,  you  little  realize  what 
it  is  to  have  such  a  mother,"  said  Mr.  Grant, 
warmly. 

The  conversation  now  wandered  off  to 
other  matters,  and  Carrie  was  in  the  midst 
of  describing  the  party  her  grandmother  had 
had  on  her  eightieth  birth-day,  when  there 
was  a  loud  scream  from  the  top  of  the  tree. 


THE   WOODS.  89 


"  I  can't  get  up  there  !  It's  just  as  far  off 
as  it  was!  Dear,  deary-di-dumpkin  deary 
me ! " 

Mr.  Grant  and  Carrie  looked  up  and  saw 
Raclie  at  the  top  of  the  tall  tree  over  their 
heads.  Up  the  slender  branches  she  had 
made  her  way,  meaning  to  climb  to  the 
heaven  of  which  Carrie  had  spoken,  and 
now,  in  her  disappointment,  the  sky  that  had 
seemed  to  rest  on  those  feathery  topmost 
branches  was  grandly  reaching  far  above 
her. 

Rache's  disappointment  changed  to  para 
lyzing  fear,  as  she  turned  her  glance  from 
the  soft,  white  clouds  to  the  ground  below. 
If  she  was  not  nearer  heaven,  she  was  far 
indeed  from  earth.  The  scream  she  sent 
forth  rang  through  the  woods  and  startled 
every  living  thing. 

"  Oh,  0  Mass  Grant !     0  Mass ! " 

"  Come  down  very  carefully,  Rache.  Keep 
looking  up,  and  come  down  backwards," 
8* 


90  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

shouted  Mr.  Grant.  "  The  branches  will  bear 
you.  Come  down  quietly,  like  a  good  girl." 

Like  a  lifeless  creature  Rache  crouched 
motionless  among  the  nodding  branches,  no 
persuasion  or  threats  could  induce  her  to  move. 

"  I  must  go  up  for  her/'  said  Mr.  Grant, 
throwing  aside  his  coat.  "  I  am  afraid  she 
will  get  dizzy  and  fall." 

"  0,  Mr.  Grant !  You  can't.  The  limbs 
won't  bear  you.  Please  don't  try.  Let  us 
see  if  something  else  cannot  be  done,"  urged 
Carrie. 

"  I  dare  not  wait  another  minute,"  said 
Mr.  Grant ;  and  he  was  soon  far  up  the  tree, 
while  Carrie  watched  him  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  and  prayer  in  her  heart. 

The  upper  limbs  bent  beneath  his  weight 
as  he  rested  but  for  an  instant  on  each,  pass 
ing  swiftly  on  like  a  skillful  skater  gliding 
over  the  thin  ice.  Eache's  hand  was  in  his 
at  last,  and  slowly  he  began  the  descent. 
The  slender  boughs  which  had  borne  his 


THE  WOODS.  91 


hasty  tread  bent  and  cracked  beneath  his 
firmer  and  more  cautious  movements.  But 
half  the  difficult  descent  was  made  when 
Mr.  Grant  placed  his  foot  on  a  dead  branch. 
There  was  a  sudden  crash.  He  dropped 
Eache's  hand  and  caught  at  a  slender  bough 
near  him.  It  broke  beneath  his  grasp,  and 
he  fell  headlong  from  the  tree. 

Carrie  held  her  breath,  fearing  that  he 
would  strike  the  rock  upon  which  she  sat. 

On  the  mossy  ground  he  dropped  heavily. 
No  groan  came  from  his  white  lips,  no  ges 
ture  of  pain  stirred  his  limbs.  Like  one 
dead  he  lay  in  silence,  while  Carrie  bent 
over  him  in  an  agony  of  distress. 

Rache  forgot  her  fear  when  she  saw  what 
had  happened  to  her  master,  and  coming 
down  the  tree  as  swiftly  as  a  wild-cat,  she 
reached  his  side.  With  a  terrible  wail  she 
began  to  bemoan  his  misfortune,  but  no  idea 
of  help  seemed  to  enter  her  bewildered  head. 

Carrie  at  once  thought  of  going  to  the 


92  UXDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 


nearest  farm-house,  but  she  could  not  bear 
to  leave  her  friend  in  such  a  condition,  alone 
with  Rache. 

At  this  moment  she  heard  the  welcome 
sound  of  wheels  on  the  road  close  by.  The 
strong-handed  carter  found  it  no  difficult 
undertaking  to  lay  the  slender  youth  in 
his  empty  wagon,  and  then  helping  Carrie 
and  Rache  to  a  place  at  his  side,  he  drove 
carefully  toward  Mr.  Eaton's. 

When  the  poor  little  wife  saw  the  sense 
less  form  of  her  husband,  her  shrieks  were 
terrible.  She  wrung  her  small  hands  and 
bemoaned  herself  in  an  agony  of  terror,  and 
when  he  was  laid  upon  the  bed  in  her  own 
room,  she  flitted  around  him  the  very  image 
of  distress.  Yet  even  in  the  midst  of  sor 
row  she  did  not  forget  to  loose  her  long 
dark  hair,  that  it  might  float  around  her  in 
the  confusion  that  became  the  occasion. 

What  a  strange  thing  is  human  vanity ! 


VIII. 


PRAIN  fever  was  the  consequence  of 
Mr.  Grant's  terrible  fall.  Though 
his  little  wife  perched  beside  him  on 
the  bed  for  hours  together,  he  but  turned 
his  eyes  languidly  towards  her.  Though 
she  had  tried  to  wash  away  the  traces  of 
her  tears,  and  to  dress  in  a  style  which 
pleased  him  best,  he  had  no  looks  of  admira 
tion  for  her  now.  She  even  doubted  if  he 
knew  her  face  on  which  he  had  looked  so 
fondly. 

This  was  a  dreary  time  for  Carrie.  The 
house  was  hushed  to  perfect  stillness,  not  a 
skip  or  a  song  was  to  be  tolerated,  and  in 
truth  Carrie  had  no  heart  for  any  such  signs 
of  cheerfulness.  The  solemn  thought  was 
ever  in  her  mind  that  Mr.  Grant  might  soon 


94  UNDER  THE  PEAK   TREE. 


be  in  the  unseen  world,  might  soon  be 
called  to  his  last  account.  How  she  wished 
that  she  could  remember  words  of  his  that 
would  make  her  sure,  that  when  his  eyes 
closed  on  this  world  they  would  open  on 
the  brightness  of  eternal  glory  !  How  dif 
ferent  had  been  her  feelings  when  her  dear 
grandmother  had  lain  in  that  same  room, 
peacefully  awaiting  the  summons  that  should 
bid  her  see  her  Saviour  face  to  face  ! 

Carrie  could  but  hide  her  tearful  eyes  as 
she  knelt  to  pray  for  the  sick  man  in  the 
secresy  of  her  own  quiet  chamber. 

There  was  another  name  that  daily 
mingled  in  Carrie's  prayers,  even  that  of 
little  Rache.  The  poor  creature  seemed 
perfectly  stunned  by  the  illness  of  her  mas 
ter.  Mrs.  Grant  gave  her  up  at  last  as  ut 
terly  unmanageable,  and  left  her  to  have 
her  own  way. 

Beside  the  door  of  the  sick  room  Rache 
crouched  day  and  night,  whether  sleeping 


SICKNESS.  95 


or  waking  no  one  could  tell.  She  seemed 
more  like  a  faithful  dog  under  like  circum 
stances  than  a  human  being.  She  would 
not  leave  her  post  even  to  take  her  meals, 
and  often  the  plate  heaped  with  food  which 
Carrie  placed  beside  her  was  left  untouched 
for  hours.  The  family  became  accustomed 
to  the  dark  object  cowering  in  the  hall,  and 
so  day  by  day  Radio  watched  and  waited 
for  some  word  of  good  cheer.  Her  cheeks 
were  growing  wan  and  wasted,  and  her 
great  eyes  stared  out  from  the  depth  into 
which  they  were  sinking.  She  was  evidently 
pining  away,  yet  even  the  severest  threats 
could  not  drive  her  from  the  spot  she  had 
chosen. 

Carrie  had  gone  to  bed  one  night  weary 
with  the  running  to  and  fro  on  the  stairs, 
which  had  been  her  part  of  the  nursing. 
Was  it  fatigue  that  made  her  sleep  so  rest 
less?  No,  there  was  certainly  some  one 
now  laying  hold  of  her  hand,  now  touching 


96  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


her  forehead,  as  if  wishing  to  rouse  her  and 
yet  not  daring  to  speak  to  her. 

Carrie's  eyes  opened  at  last,  and  she 
started  with  a  feeling  of  terror  as  she  saw 
in  the  moonlight  a  figure  sitting  on  the  foot 
of  her  bed,  and  evidently  drawing  back  the 
hand  that  had  first  been  laid  upon  her  brow. 
Carrie  rose  up  and  rubbed  her  eyes.  Her 
first  impulse  was  to  call  her  mother,  but  the 
remembrance  of  the  pale,  weary  face  of  that 
mother  whom  she  had  bidden  her  "good 
night,"  deterred  her.  A  long  earnest  look 
at  the  figure  assured  her  that  it  was  poor 
Rache.  "Rache!"  said  Carrie,  in  a  low 
voice. 

Rache's  only  answer  was  the  screwing 
of  her  fist  into  her  cheek,  and  a  low  moan 
of  misery. 

"  Is  any  thing  the  matter  ?  "  said  Carrie, 
now  thoroughly  awake. 

Again  the  fist  gave  a  significant  punch, 
and  there  was  another  moan. 


SICKNESS.  97 


"  Have  you  got  the  tooth-ache,  Rache  ?  " 
said  Carrie,  persuasively. 

Rache  bowed  her  head,  and  moaned  loud 
er  than  before. 

Carrie  was  up  in  an  instant ;  that  was  a 
pain  she  knew  something  about,  and  the  suffer 
er  from  its  torture,  always  claimed  her  deepest 
sympathy.  She  quickly  produced  a  box  of 
powdered  alum  and  salt  which  her  mother 
had  provided  for  night  attacks  of  the  enemy. 
Showing  Rache  how  to  apply  it  on  a  bit  of 
cotton,  she  watched  the  operation  with  the 
air  of  an  experienced  physician. 

"  Does  it  feel  better  ?  "  said  Carrie,  bend 
ing  over  poor  Rache,  who  had  dropped  upon 
the  floor.  Carrie  had  longed  to  do  the  lit 
tle  heathen  good.  She  had  prayed  for  her, 
but  never  till  now  had  she  spoken  to  her  in 
the  loving  tones  of  affectionate  interest. 

Rache  felt  the  difference,  and  turning  her 
eyes  slowly  up  towards  the  little  figure  in 
white,  she  said,  "Miss  Carr,  it's  done  a 
9 


98  UNDER   THE   PEAR  TREE. 


thrustin  me  now,  Miss  Carr.  Rache  thought 
she  didn't  care  what  took  her,  but  that  was 
most  awful  bad.  I'se  all  miserable  all  over, 
in  here,  in  here,  when  I  thinks  about  Mass 
Grant.  Oh  !  Miss  Carr  !  " 

Rache  pressed  her  hand  to  her  side,  and 
great  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks  as  she 
spoke. 

"  Dear  Rache,  don't  cry  so  !  "  said  Carrie, 
tenderly.  "  Maybe  Mr.  Grant  will  get 
well,  and  if  he  don't,  you  know  there  is  a 
beautiful  place,  God's  heaven,  where  he 
takes  those  who  love  him  when  they  die, 
and  makes  them  very,  very  happy.  Nobody 
ever  cries  there,  and  nobody  has  any  pain 
as  you  had  just  now.  The  dear  good  Sav 
iour  lives  there,  and  though  he  is  grander 
than  any  king  in  this  world,  he  takes  even 
the  poor  and  the  little  children  by  the 
hand,  and  leads  them  along  the  golden 
streets  and  by  the  banks  of  the  clear 


river." 


SICKNESS.  99 


"  Will  Mass  Grant  go  there  ?  "  said  Rache, 
eagerly. 

"  I  cannot  be  very  sure,"  said  Carrie, 
truthfully, "  but  you  kneel  down  as  I  do,  and 
we  will  ask  the  Saviour  if  he  takes  away 
Mr.  Grant  out  of  this  world,  to  let  him  come 
and  live  in  his  beautiful  home.  The  Saviour 
can  hear  us,  though  we  cannot  see  him." 

Rache  did  &s  she  was  told,  and  her  poor 
heart  found  its  first  comfort,  as  Carrie  prayed 
that  the  Lord  would  spare  Mr.  Grant's  life, 
or  else  help  him  so  to  turn  to  Christ  that  he 
might  enter  the  -bright  kingdom  above,  and 
be  happy  among  the  angels  there. 

"  Tank  'ee  Miss  Carr  !  "  said  Rache,  as 
they  rose  from  their  knees.  "  I  kinder  feels 
set  up  now."  A  sudden  shadow  overspread 
her  dark  face,  as  she  added,  "  But  Rache, 
Miss  Carr,  he  xoortt  leave  poor  Rache  behind. 
He's  always  took  me  every  place,  ever  since 
Miss  Lizzie  was  married.  He  won't  leave 
Rache  when  he  goes,  will  he  ?  " 


100  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


"  Every  body  goes  alone  to  Heaven,"  said 
Carrie,  wiping  away  the  tears  that  gathered 
in  her  eyes;  "  but  Rache,  dear,  the  Lord  Jesus 
will  take  care  of  him  ;  and  you  can  speak  to 
that  same  Lord  Jesus,  and  if  you  try  to  be  a 
very  good  girl,  and  not  lie  or  steal  or  do  any 
naughty  thing,  when  you  die  you  will  go  to 
the  happy  Heaven  too,  and  sing  among  the 
beautiful  angels." 

"  Maybe  they  wouldn't  let  Rache  in  ?  may 
be  only  white  folks  would  be  there,"  said 
Rache,  doubtfully. 

"  The  Lord  Jesus  loves  white  and  black, 
poor  and  rich,  just  the  same,"  said  Carrie, 
earnestly  ;  "  and  if  you  will  try  to  be  good 
as  he  wants  you  to  be,  he  will  take  you  to 
his  home." 

Rache  listened  eagerly,  a  cough  interrupt 
ed  the  earnest  young  speaker. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Carr  !  "  broke  in  Rache,  u  now 
you  be  taking  cold,  and  you'll  go  leave 
Rache,  and  nobody  will  tell  her  how  to  get 


SICKNESS.  101 

up  there.  If  I  could  only  climb  it,  I  could 
know  that  way.  Now  you  Miss  Carr,  just 
slip  in  your  warm  bed,  and  I'll  tuck  you  up 
close,  and  then  jus  sit  down  there  by  the 
door  and  say  over  them  words  you  said  on 
your  knees.  Maybe  I  won't  get  'em  jus 
right,  will  lie  mind  if  I  don't  say  it  jus  so  as 
you  did?" 

"  The  Lord  Jesus  knows  what  you  want, 
he  will  not  mind  any  mistakes  you  make  : 
you  may  speak  to  him  as  you  would  speak  to 
me,  only  he  loves  you  ever  so  much  better 
than  I  do,  and  is,  oh,  ever  so  much  kinder 
and  wiser.'7 

When  Eache  had  performed  her  friendly 
office  and  slipped  away  to  her  post  in  the 
entry,  with  double  earnestness  Carrie's  pray 
ers  went  up  for  the  poor  ignorant  creature, 
who  was  in  her  trouble  seeking  help  from 
on  high. 

9* 


IX. 


(MMTTLE  Mrs.  Grant  was  not  of  much 
^1J  use  in  the  sick  room,  and  she  knew 
it,  and  yet  she  could  not  be  persuaded 
to  leave  her  husband,  wholly  to  the  care  of 
others.  On  the  couch  near  him  she  lay 
down,  starting  up  at  the  least  sound,  and 
watching  when  his  medicines  were  adminis 
tered,  as  if  the  glance  of  her  tearful  eyes 
could  give  a  healing  power  to  the  various 
doses  she  could  not  trust  her  unsteady  hand 
to  drop. 

At  dawn  Mr.  Grant  had  fallen  into  a  deep 
sleep,  and  Mr.  Eaton,  who  was  watching  be 
side  him,  leaned  back  in  his  chair  with  a 
wearied,  grateful  look  in  his  pale,  worn  face. 

In  the  stillness,  Mrs.  Grant  heard  a  low 
murmuring  in  the  entry  without.  Silently 

(102) 


MORNING   LIGHT.  103 


she  stole  to  the  spot  where  Rache  was  crouch 
ing.  "  Was  that  you  Rache  ? "  said  the 
young  mistress,  with  unusual  kindness  in  her 
manner.  The  creature's  abject  grief  had 
touched  her  heart,  a  common  sorrow  had 
made  a  new  bond  between  them. 

Rache  looked  up  into  the  face  of  her  mis 
tress.  There  was  a  cheerful  light  in  the 
great,  dark  eyes,  as  she  answered, 

"  It  was  jus  'me,  Miss  Lizzie.7' 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  sleep,  poor  thing  ; 
there,  throw  your  carpet  over  you,  and 
lie  down.  You'll  be  sick,  you  foolish 
child." 

Rache  could  feel  kindness,  and  something 
choked  her  as  she  said,  "  I  ain't  sleepy,  no 
how.  You  see,  Miss  Lizzie,  Fse  jus'  askin'  de 
Lord  to  make  Mass  Grant  well,  and  not  let 
him  go  to  that  shinin'  place  up  there,  till  you 
and  me,  Miss  Lizzie,  gets  good  enough  to  go 
along  with  him.  Miss  Carr  said  I  might 
ask  it  jus  my  way,  and  I'se  asked  so  many 


104  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


times.  See,  I'se  marked  it  with  dese  beans, 
Fse  had  in  my  pocket." 

There  was  a  row  of  the  white  beans  across 
the  entry,  proofs  of  poor  Rache's  persever 
ance  through  the  weary  hours  of  the  night. 

"  I'll  ask  him  too,  Rache,"  said  the  young 
wife,  her  heart  swelling  in  her  bosom. 

Silently  Mrs.  Grant  moved  down  stairs  to 
the  quiet  parlor.  In  the  darkness  of  the 
closed  room,  she  knelt,  when  no  eye  could 
see,  save  that  Eye  which  "  never  slumbers 
nor  sleeps.77  Earnestly  she  repeated  Rache's 
poor  prayer,  that  the  three  might  be  spared 
to  prepare  together  to  enter  that  kingdom 
which  had  been  so  little  in  all  their  thoughts. 

That  was  an  hour  of  deep  repentance  for 
Mrs.  Grant.  What  had  she  clone  to  help 
her  husband  to  prepare  for  the  death  that 
might  be  soon  his  sure  portion  ?  Was  she 
herself  ready  for  such  an  awful  change  ? 
What  word  or  act  of  her's  had  ever  led  poor 
Rache  to  think  of  the  Saviour  of  sinners  ? 


MORNING   LIGHT.  105 

Mrs.  Grant's  idle,  wasted,  butterfly  life 
passed  before  her  like  a  swift  dream.  In 
shame  and  sorrow  she  confessed  her  utter 
unworthiness,  and  begged  the  loving  Saviour 
to  receive  her  as  a  poor,  guilty  child,  and 
enable  her  so  to  live  that  she  might  be  a 
help  to  her  husband  and  to  Rache,  if  indeed, 
that  dear  husband  should  be  spared  to  her. 

"  Mrs.  Grant,"  said  a  voice  in  the  hall. 
The  wife  sprang  to  the  door  in  alarm. 

•'  God  be  praised,"  said  the  earnest  voice 
of  Mr.  Eaton,  "  dear  Mrs.  Grant,  your 
husband  is  better.  He  has  opened  his  eyes, 
and  they  have  their  own  natural  expression. 
All  that  wandering,  dreamy  look  is  gone." 

"  I  do  not  deserve  it,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Grant,  amid  tears  of  joy. 

"  May  God  send  his  blessing  on  you  both, 
and  help  you  so  to  live  to  his  service,  that 
death  shall  have  for  you  no  more  terrors  ! " 
said  Mr.  Eaton,  fervently. 


X. 

itnb  in 


fHE  soft  summer  air  had  clothed  the 
old-fashioned  garden  in  wonderful 
beauty.  Sweet  perfume  lingered  on 
the  gentle  breeze,  and  bright  flowers  were 
springing  everywhere  in  lavish  luxuriance. 
The  staunch  old  pear  tree  had  hung  out  its 
fruit  to  the  sun,  and  the  currant  bushes  still 
hoarded  a  few  clusters  of  gems. 

The  grass  in  the  favored  circle  was  smooth 
as  the  rich  carpet  of  the  drawing  room,  and 
yet  Carrie  seemed  to  think  it  not  a  fit  rest 
ing-place  for  a  pair  of  feet,  for  which  she 
was  tenderly  caring.  They  must  have  that 
gay  Brioche  of  her  own  knitting,  and  it 
must  be  her  hand  that  placed  it  just  where 
it  would  be  best  for  the  invalid's  use. 

Mr.  Grant  smiled  as  she  made  her  arran<re- 

(106) 


HAND   IN   HAND.  107 


rnents  for  'his  comfort,  and  playfully  said, 
"  You  will  spoil  me,  Carrie,  quite  make  a 
woman  of  me.  I  shall  have  to  be  at  rough 
work,  soon,  and  forget  that  I  have  been 
ill." 

"  We  can't  forget  it,  you  look  so  pale  and 
thin.  I  don't  see  how  you  can  be  so  cheer 
ful  and  patient,"  said  Carrie,  warmly. 

"  I  am  glad  if  I  even  seem  patient,"  was 
the  serious  reply.  "  I  have  a  great  deal  to 
learn  in  that  way,  yet.  Indeed  I  have  a 
great  deal  to  learn  every  way.  I  want  to 
begin  life  all  over  again.  I  wish  I  were  a 
child  like  you,  Carrie,  with  no  wrong  past 
to  remember,  and  no  bad  habits  to  over 
come." 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Grant,  I  have  a  great  deal  to 
be  sorry  for,  and  ever  so  many  bad  habits, 
but  mother  says  that  is  no  reason  for  me  to 
be  discouraged.  She  says,  my  part  is  to  try 
faithfully  to  do  right,  and  to  believe  that  all 
my  sins  are  forgiven,  for  Jesus'  sake." 


108  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


"  And  I  suppose  that  must  be  my  lesson, 
too.  I  am  trying  to  teach  it  to  my  heart, 
but  I  need  a  better  Teacher,  even  he  who 
knoweth  all  my  sins,  and  is  yet  ready  to 
wash  them  away." 

Mr.  Grant  spoke  very  earnestly,  and 
Carrie's  eyes  softened  as  she  listened. 
When  he  paused,  she  exclaimed,  "Dear 
Mr.  Grant,  I  love  to  hear  you  say  so.  I 
was  not  quite  sure  you  felt  this  way  before 
you  were  sick,  and  it  worried  me  not  to  be 
sure,  as  I  was  about  grandma." 

"  You  were  too  right,  Carrie  in  your  fears. 
I  trust  that  God  has  blessed  this  illness  to 
me,  and  help  me  to  resolve  to  lead  a  new 
life,"  was  the  reply. 

"  This  great  trouble  has  helped  you  take 
a  great  step  toward  Heaven.  You  know 
what  mother  said  about  the  ladder,"  said 
Carrie,  eagerly.  "Yes,  and  I  remember 
that  Christ  must  sustain  us,  for  our  troubles 
are  worse  than  lost,  and  I  mean,  too,  Carrie 


HAND   IN   HAND.  109 


to  keep  in  mind  that  the  Christian  who 
would  climb  to  Heaven  must  bear  cheer 
fully  every  little  trial,  as  sent  him  by  the 
Lord  for  a  stepping-stone  to  lift  him  higher 
and  nearer  to  himself." 

Carrie's  face  was  perfectly  beaming  as  the 
listened  to  these  words,  evidently  spoken 
from  the  depth  of  the  heart. 

"  Are  you  here,  William  ?  "  said  a  voice 
from  behind  the  old  tree. 

"  Lizzie !  "  exclaimed  the  husband  with 
pleasure.  "Are  you  coming  to  enjoy  the 
shade  of  the  old  pear-tree." 

Mrs.  Grant  had  fancied  that  she  had  an 
aversion  to  everything  rural,  but  it  was 
plain  that  her  taste  was  changing  with  re 
gard  to  that  matter,  as  it  was  in  many  other 
ways. 

She  sat   down  beside  her  husband  and 
gazed  earnestly  into  his  face.     "  You  do  not 
look  quite  like  yourself  yet,"  was  her  sos- 
rowful  comment,  after  the  long  survey- 
10 


110  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 


"  And  yet  I  feel  like  myself,  and  full  of 
new  hopes  and  new  plans,"  was  the  cheerful 
.answer. 

Carrie  stole  away,  to  enjoy  in  solitude  the 
sweet  assurance  that  she  had  gathered  from 
Mr.  Grant's  last  words  to  her.  The  young 
wife  did  not  particularly  regret  her  absence, 
:as  she  had  something  special  to  say  to  her 
foustaid. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  you  alone,"  she  began, 
''for  I  want  to  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am  that 
1  have  n©t  been  a  better  wife  to  you.  I 
^never  helped  you  to  do  any  thing  that  was 
right,  and  I  dare  say  I  led  you  into  a  great 
deal  of  foolishness  that  was  not  good  for 
you.'" 

"Stop'!  stopl'"  exclaimed  the  husband, 
putting  his  hand  over  her  mouth.  "  I  am 
the  one  who  ought  to  confess.  When  I  took 
the  little  orphan  Lizzie  to  be  my  wife,  I 
meant  to  shield  her  from  all  evil,  and  stand 
.between  her  and  trouble,  sorrow  and  want. 


HAND   IN   HAND.  Ill 


I  have  been  a  poor,  light-minded,  worthless 
fellow,  not  teaching  my  wife  to  look  to  God 
to  keep  her  from  evil.  I  have  not  even 
stood  between  her  and  want.  I  believe  if 
I  had  been  what  I  should  have  been,  instead 
of  a  mere  pleasure-loving  fop,  I  should  not 
have  lost  tne  clerkship  which  was  our  all. 
I  am  a  poor  man.  Lizzie.  I  have  nothing  to 
depend  upon.  I  ought  to  have  talked  this 
over  plainly  with  you  before,  but  I  thought 
you  were  too  young  and  light  hearted  to 
have  such  troubles.  I  do  not  know  what  is 
before  us  in  the  future,  but  I  leave  all  to  God, 
the  God  whom  I  hope  to  serve  faithfully, 
henceforward  and  forever." 

"My  dear  husband!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Grant.  "  This  makes  me  happier  than  if 
you  were  rich  as  a  king.  I  cannot  tell  you 
what  I  suffered  when  I  thought  you  were 
going  to  die,  and  go  into  that  eternity  of 
which  we  had  never  spoken  together,  which 
had  scarcely  entered  into  our  thoughts.  I 


112  UNDER  THE  PEAR  TREE. 


too  want  to  be  better,  and  you  will  teach  me 
how,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  but  a  poor  beginner  myself,  Lizzie, 
but  we  can  both  pray  to  be  taught  from 
above  ;  and  if  we  walk  humbly  we  shall  not 
go  astray,"  was  the  solemn  answer. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant  had  thought  them 
selves  happy  when  they  commenced  life's 
journey  together,  but  a  deeper  joy  now 
filled  their  hearts,  as  hand  in  hand,  they  set 
their  faces  Heavenward. 


XI. 


was  sitting  in  her  little  room, 
busying  away  over  her  lessons  for  the 
morrow.  There  was  a  gentle  tap  at 
the  door.  A  frown  of  impatience  crossed 
Carrie's  face,  she  did  not  want  to  be  inter 
rupted  then  by  everybody.  Slie  did  not 
look  very  hospitable  as  she  opened  the  door 
a  crack,  to  see  who  the  intruder  was. 

"  You  are  busy,  Carrie,"  said  Mrs.  Grant, 
modestly,  "  I  won't  interrupt  you." 

Carrie  knew  that  it  was  not  essential  that 
she  should  be  studying  exactly  at  that  time, 
and  she  forced  herself  to  say  pleasantly, 
"  Come  in,  Mrs.  Grant,  I  can  learn  my  les 
sons  as  well  by  and  by." 

"  I  want  you  to  help  me  a  little  about  my 
sewing,"  said  Mrs.   Grant,   bashfully.     "  I 
10*  (H3) 


114  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 

am  ashamed  to  let  you  see  what  a  poor  seam 
stress  I  am,  but  I  am  determined  to  learn. 
I  keep  getting  this  hem  uneven ;  I  think  I 
could  sew  it  better,  if  it  were  basted." 

"  I'll  baste  it,"  said  Carrie,  going  to  work 
in  a  business  like  way. 

Dear  little  Mrs.  Grant !  She  was  trying 
to  learn  to  be  useful,  to  be  fit  for  a  poor 
man's  wife. 

She  had  keenly  felt  her  helplessness  when 
other  hands  had  ministered  about  her  hus 
band's  sick-bed,  while  she  had  looked  on, 
utterly  unable  to  assist. 

She  was  determined  to  lead  no  longer  an 
idle,  listless  life.  Carrie  was  no  more  in 
dustrious,  by  nature,  than  herself,  yet  she 
had  seen  the  little  girl  patiently  schooling 
herself  to  sew  neatly  the  long  seams  that 
were  prepared  for  her,  and  striving  to  learn 
the  simple  household  duties  that  her  mother 
thought  best  for  her  to  attempt. 

Carrie  had  not  dreamed  that  her  strug- 


KACHE.  115 


gles  to  bear  pleasantly  such  little  trying 
duties  would  have  such  an  influence.  Yet 
now  Mrs.  Grant  was  sitting  beside  her  with 
the  docile  look  of  a  scholar,  ready  to  learn 
to  do  what  Carrie  had  accomplished,  and  to 
triumph  as  Carrie  had  triumphed. 

"  I  had  no  mother  to  teach  me  to  sew, 
when  I  was  little,"  said  Mrs.  Grant,  apolo 
getically.  How  Carrie's  heart  smote  her 
for  the  severity  with  which  she  had  viewed 
Mrs.  Grant's  idle  habits.  How  much  better 
would  she  have  been,  but  for  the  persevering 
instructions  of  her  own  dear  mother  ! 

"  Did  your  mother  die  when  you  were 
very  young?"  asked  Carrie,  with  a  look  of 
pity  in  ber  kind  face. 

"  I  don't  remember  her  at  all ;  old  mam 
my  took  care  of  me  when  I  was  a  baby,  and 
she  never  wanted  me  to  learn  to  do  any 
thing  useful  •  she  said  '  Miss  Lizzie  would 
always  have  somebody  to  work  for  her,  and 
what  was  the  use  of  her  pricking  her  little 


116  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

white  fingers  with  an  ugly  needle.  Poor 
dear  mammy,  she  meant  right,  but  she 
didn't  know  what  was  to  happen  to  her 
Miss  Lizzie." 

"Where  is  your  mammy  now,  you  must 
want  to  see  her,"  said  Carrie,  quite  uncon 
scious  of  giving  her  pain. 

"  Poor  mammy's  dead ! "  said  Mrs.  Grant, 
tears  filling  her  eyes.  "I  cried  as  if  my 
heart  would  break  when  they  took  her 
away  from  me  to  lay  her  in  the  ground  ;  and 
then  uncle  James,  the  uncle  I  lived  with, 
gave  me  Eache,  her  little  granddaughter,  to 
be  my  maid,  and  thought  that  would  com 
fort  me.  Though  he  was  so  angry  when  I 
was  married,  he  said  I  might  take  Rache 
with  me,  for  I  was  a  poor,  foolish,  helpless 
child,  and  didn't  even  know  how  to  wait  on 
myself ;  but  I  am  going  to  be  very  different, 
and  maybe  he'll  come  to  see  us  some  day, 
and  wonder  to  find  how  steady  and  indus 
trious  I  have  grown." 


RACHE.  117 


Mrs.  Grant  had  done  more  talking  than 
sewing  so  far,  but  now  she  seemed  deter 
mined  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  for  stitch, 
stitch  went  her  busy  needle  until  at  last  she 
held  up  the  completed  hem,  exclaiming,  with 
child-like  glee,  "  Only  see !  It  is  all  done ! 
It  looks  pretty  well,  don't  it?" 

Carrie  expertly  rubbed  down  the  seam 
with  her  finger  nail,  but  even  this  familiar 
process  did  not  cause  all  the  stitches  to  dis 
appear  entirely.  Candor,  however,  did  not 
forbid  her  pronouncing  the  work  "  wonder 
fully  well  done  for  any  body  who  was  not 
used  to  sewing." 

With  this  praise,  Mrs.  Grant  seemed  quite 
satisfied,  and  away  she  flitted  to  give  her 
husband  his  new  cravat ;  the  first  bit  of  sew 
ing  her  little  hands  had  ever  done  for  him. 

Carrie's  studies  were  not  to  have  her  un 
disturbed  attention  that  afternoon.  She 
had  hardly  mastered  three  paragraphs  of 
what  she  called  a  "  hard  geography  lesson," 


118  UNDER   THE   TEAR   TREE. 


when  there  was  another  tap  at  her  door. 
Eache  was  promptly  admitted,  yet  she 
seemed  in  no  hurry  to  tell  her  errand.  On 
to  the  floor  she  dropped,  (her  unfailing  sign 
of  misery,)  and  burying  her  face  in  her 
apron,  she  for  a  time  could  not  be  brought 
to  utter  a  single  word. 

At  length,  mid  most  unsentimental  snorts 
and  blubberings,  she  burst  forth,  "  0,  Miss 
Carr,  I'se  kilt  to  pieces.  Fse  all  broke  up. 
We's  are  goin'  away.  We's  done  stayin' 
here.  I  wouldn't  have  'em  leave  me  behind. 
No,  I  wouldn't ;  but  0,  Miss  Carr  I"  Here 
renewed  sobbings  checked  Rache's  further 
disclosure  of  her  sufferings.  This  was  a 
surprise  indeed!  Carrie  had  learned  to 
look  upon  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant  as  settled 
inmates  of  the  household  ;  she  had  not 
thought  it  possible  that  Mr.  Grant's  com 
plete  recovery  would  have  such  a  conse 
quence.  All  consciousness,  however,  of  her 
own  feelings  on  the  subject  were  lost  in  her 


RACHE.  119 


desire  to  comfort  Rache.  It  was  plain  that 
Rache  did  not  want  to  be  comforted.  She 
not  only  chose  to  be  very  miserable,  but  to 
have  somebody  hear  her  sobs  and  groans, 
and  appreciate  her  trouble. 

"  Don't  cry  so,  Rache,"  said  Carrie,  when 
she  could  at  last  make  herself  heard ; 
"  maybe  you  are  going  to  some  very  pleas 
ant  place,  and  you'll  have  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Grant  with  you,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  want  'em  to  leave  me  behind,  but 
0,  Miss  Carr,"  persisted  Rache,  "couldn't 
you  go  along  ? " 

Carrie  was  really  touched.  It  was  the 
idea  then  of  leaving  her  which  had  occa 
sioned  the  poor  creature's  distress.  The 
tears  actually  came  into  Carrie's  eyes  as 
she  answered :  "  I  shall  miss  you,  too,  Rache, 
very  much.  I  can't  go  with  you,  but  if  we 
are  both  children  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  we 
shall  certainly  meet  some  day  in  his  beauti 
ful  heaven.  We  will  try  to  do  what  is 


120  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


right,  won't  we  ? "  said  Carrie,  persua 
sively. 

"  You  will,"  said  Rache  ;  "  you  will,  but 
I'se  don't  know  about  Rache.  She's  con 
trary  and  bad  in  her  ways.  She  slips  into 
the  pantry  and  nips  out  little  scraps  of  cake 
before  she  even  thinks,  and  says  '  No,  I 
didn't'  so  nat'ral,  when  folks  asks  who  been 
meddlin'.  Rache  don't  take  to  such  things 
like  a  duck  to  the  water.  You  will,  but 
maybe  Rache  '11  jus'  get  badder  and  badder, 
with  no  Miss  Carr  to  kinder  coax  her  and 
tell  her  about  the  Lord  Jesus." 

Here   followed  another   fit  of    sobbing. 

When  there  was  a  lull,  Carrie  said : 
"Never  fear,  Rache,  the  Lord  Jesus  will 
help  you  to  grow  better,  if  you  keep  pray 
ing  to  him,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant  will 
teach  you.  They  are  both  trying  to  serve 
the  Lord  Jesus,  and  they  will  love  to  help 
you." 

"  I  kinder  suspected  it !     I  took  a  notion 


RACHE.  121 


that  was  the  way  with  'em!"  said  Rache, 
joyously.  "  It  is  a  fact.  Now,  Miss  Carr, 
that  does  set  me  up  some ! " 

"  Yes,  Rache,  and  this  good  news  comes 
to  you  at  the  very  time  you  thought  you 
were  having  so  much  trouble.  So  you  must 
cheer  up,  and  try  and  be  a  good  girl  where- 
ever  you  go,"  said  Carrie,  encouragingly. 

"  111  do  jus'  that,"  said  Rache ;  "  but, 
Miss  Carr,  I'se  never  '11  forget  you  if  I 
lives  as  old  as  Methusaly.  When  you  gets 
to  heaven,  maybe  Rache  '11  be  up  there 
singin',  and  won't  she  be  glad  to  see  you 
come  in,  and  won't  she  get  the  angels  round 
her  and  tell  'em  how  you  teached  and 
teached  me,  and  kinder  made  it  all  sweet 
and  plain  to  me.  Sure  enough,  if  Rache  is 
a  shinin'  up  there  in  the  blessed  country,  it 
will  be  because  Miss  Carr  took  her  by  the 
hand  and  showed  her  the  way." 

"  It  will  be  because  the  Lord  Jesus  died 
for  us,  that  we  are  there,  Raclic ;  we  must 
11 


122  UNDER   THE   PEAR   TREE. 


not  forget  that.  If  ho  had  not  put  his 
spirit  into  your  heart,  Rache,  all  my  teach 
ing  would  have  been  in  vain,"  said  Carrie, 
earnestly. 

"  There  is  a  happy  land ! "  burst  forth 
Rache,  and  with  this  glad  song  on  her  lips, 
she  went  cheerily  down  stairs. 

Carrie  had  spoken  in  all  sincerity  to 
Rache,  when  she  reminded  her  that  her 
teaching  would  have  been  in  vain,  but  for 
the  wonderful  influence  of  the  spirit  of  God. 
Dark,  dull  and  closed  to  the  power  of  truth, 
had  seemed  the  mind  of  poor  Rache,  but 
when  touched  by  the  Divine  Spirit  in  the 
midst  of  her  ignorance,  she  could  yet  wel 
come  the  Lord  Jesus ;  mid  her  stupidity, 
she  could  yet  love  his  precious  name,  and 
strive  to  follow  his  example. 

Carrie  understood  at  last  what  was 
meant  by  "praying  for  the  heathen/'  arid 
such  prayers  now  seemed  to  her  of  even 
more  value  than  the  golden  contributions, 


RACHE.  123 


which  she  had  before  been  tempted  to  think 
all-sufficient.  She  thought  with  loving  pity 
of  the  poor  missionaries,  who  like  her,  had 
their  struggles  with  the  blinded,  sin-blinded 
human  heart.  She  knew  their  teaching 
would  fall  as  seed  on  the  rock,  unless  he 
who  created  should  please  to  renew. 

Ah,  very  earnest  now  were  Carrie's 
prayers  that  God  would  send  his  spirit  to 
touch  the  hearts  of  the  poor  heathen,  and 
open  their  eyes  to  see  the  beauty  of  holi 
ness  and  the  preciousness  of  the  sacrifice  of 
Christ.  She  could  believe  that  God  could 
convert  thousands  in  a  single  day,  and  that 
the  time  would  come  when  whole  nations 
would  turn  unto  the  Lord,  and  this  earth  be 
made  a  kingdom  ready  for  our  King  and 
Redeemer,  the  Saviour  Christ. 


XII. 


CARRIE  had  been  summoned  to  the 
library  the  evening  after  the  inter 
view  with  Rache,  described  in  the  last 
chapter.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eaton  were  sitting 
together,  and  there  was  an  unusual  serious 
ness  in  their  manner. 

"  Come  here,  my  darling,"  said  the  father, 
drawing  his  child  tenderly  towards  him,  "  I 
want  to  tell  you  about  Mr.  Grant." 

"  Then  what  Rache  said  is  true  !  He  is 
really  going  away  !  "  exclaimed  Carrie. 

"Mr.  Grant's  earnest  desire  is  to  find 
some  position  where  he  may  at  once  pro 
vide  a  support  for  his  young  wife.  He  is 
grateful  for  our  hospitality,  but  says  he 
does  not  care  to  trespass  longer  upon  it. 
He  does  not  yet  know  of  any  position  such 

(124) 


A  DECISION.  125 


as  he  wishes,  but  he  is  willing  to  take  up 
any  occupation,  however  humble,  by  which 
he  can  gain  an  honest  maintenance.  He  is 
starting  anew  in  life,  as  a  Christian  man, 
and  laborious  industry  is  what  he  expects, 
and  he  does  not  fear  lest  he  should  fail  of  a 
blessing  on  his  labors.  He  is  not  very 
strong  yet ;  he  is  new  to  the  struggles  of  a 
Christian,  and  might  perhaps  be  easily  led 
astray.  His  young  wife,  too,  has  much  to 
learn  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  needs  beside 
practical  lessons  in  industry,  sobriety  and 
self-denial,  which  your  mother  is  particular 
ly  well  calculated  to  give.  I  cannot  bear 
to  see  these  young  people  going  forth  from 
my  roof  to  an  uncertain  future,  and  to  the 
power  of  unknown  temptations.  I  would 
gladly  watch  over  them  and  guard  them  a 
little  longer,  but,  darling,  your  happiness 
and  your  good  are  very  precious  to  me." 

Mr.  Eaton  paused.    "  You  will  not  let 
them  go,  father,"  said  Carrie,  eagerly. 
11* 


126  UNDER  THE   PEAK  TREE. 

"  You  have  "borne  very  patiently  my  child, 
the  many  annoyances  that  have  been  brought 
about  by  the  admission  of  strangers  into 
our  family  circle.  Are  you  quite  sure  that 
through  the  long  winter  you  could  keep  up 
the  same  spirit?  I  think  of  proposing  a 
plan  to  Mr.  Grant,  which  will  retain  him 
with  us  until  the  spring." 

In  Carrie's  mind  there  rose  a  remembrance 
of  her  quiet,  peaceful  home  before  the  ar 
rival  of  the  guests.  Then,  she  was  the  main 
object  of  interest  to  her  father  and  mother, 
they  had  their  joys  together,  and  theirs  were 
loving  ears  ever  ready  to  hear  her  slightest 
sorrow.  Yery  different  had  been  the  case 
for  the  last  few  months.  There  had  been 
days  and  even  weeks,  when  Carrie's  only 
opportunity  for  a  quiet  talk  with  her  mother 
had  been  the  few  precious  moments  uniformly 
devoted  to  her  after  she  was  in  bed  for  the 
night.  Carrie  thought  of  all  this,  and  yet 
she  did  not  hesitate.  Her  reply  was  prompt. 


A   DECISION.  127 


"  Dear  father,"  she  said,  "  I  cannot  pro 
mise  to  bear  pleasantly  everything  that  may 
happen  ;  but  I  want  them  to  stay,  and  I  will 
try  to  take  every  little  trial  as  patiently  and 
cheerfully  as  I  can."  Carrie  blushed  as  she 
added  :  "  I  think  it  is  better  for  me  to  have 
somebody  to  think  about  beside  myself,  and 
not  have  everything  quite  as  I  like  it.  You 
will  have  them  stay,  I  couldn't  even  spare 
Rache,  just  now." 

"  What,  the  little  heathen, '  the  pest ! ' " 
said  the  mother,  with  a  smile. 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  call  her  a  heathen  now," 
said  Carrie,  very  soberly.  "  She  is  not  at  all 
as  she  was,  and  it  is  such  a  pleasure  to  teach 
her  excepting  on  her  funny  days,  and  then 
she  makes  me  laugh.  I  have  learned  now 
to  let  her  go  when  she  feels  that  way,  and 
take  some  other  time  to  talk  to  her." 

The  father  and  mother  looked  into  the 
loving,  animated  face  of  their  child,  and  felt 
assured  that  hitherto  the  influence  of  the 


128  UNDEE   THE   PEAR  TREE. 

strangers  had  done  her  no  harm.  They 
might  venture  to  induce  them  to  prolong 
their  stay,  without  fear  of  making  home  un 
happy  for  their  darling,  or  of  her  adopting 
the  follies  which  the  Grant's  were  trying  to 
lay  aside. 

Mr.  Eaton  had  heard  of  a  situation,  in 
which  Mr.  Grant  would  receive  some  train 
ing  in  business  habits,  but  only  a  trifling 
salary  was  offered.  This,  however,  was  quite 
sufficient  if  the  young  people  had  a  home  in 
their  friend's  family.  In  the  spring  there 
would  be  an  opening  in  the  Bank  at  Bending 
Brook,  of  which  Mr.  Eaton  was  the  Presi 
dent  ;  in  a  post  of  trust  Mr.  Grant  might 
feel  his  character  established,  and  even  look 
forward  to  the  time  when  he  could  have  a 
home  of  his  own. 

It  is  needless  to  describe  the  true  grati 
tude  of  the  young  couple  when  this  plan  was 
so  urged  upon  them,  that  they  could  not 
without  ungraciousness  refuse.  Inwardly 


A   DECISION.  129 


they  resolved  to  be  worthy  of  the  kindness 
shown  them,  and  as  opportunity  might  offer 
to  do  unto  others,  even  as  this  faithful  friend 
had  done  unto  them. 


XIII. 


'PRING  had  come  again,  and  again  the 
old  pear-tree  was  white  with  christen 
ing  blossoms.  Yet  Carrie  was  not  at 
her  favorite  haunt.  The  rustic  seac  was 
rarely  occupied,  save  by  Mr.  Eaton,  when  in 
a  thoughtful  mood  he  sought  this  place  of 
retirement. 

Winter  had  wrought  sad  destruction  in 
the  geographical  garden,  and  Andes  and 
Amazon  were  in  a  state  of  most  uninterest 
ing  ruin,  yet  Carrie  had  not  shed  a  tear  over 
their  altered  state,  or  raised  hoe  or  shovel 
for  the  work  of  restoration.  Carrie  had  a 
new  object  of  interest.  Her  spare  hours 
were  all  spent  in  another  garden  than  the 
one  endeared  to  her  by  so  many  pleasant 
associations.  She  had  transplanted  her  fav- 

(130) 


CONCLUSION.  131 


orite  moss-rose  bush  to  this  new  scene  of 
her  labors,  and  a  whole  row  of  wild-flowers 
had  found  a  home  in  the  bed,  which  was 
Carrie's  especial  care.  She  had  poked  her 
finger  into  the  ground,  times  innumerable, 
and  in  every  opening  she  had  hidden  seeds, 
the  names  of  which  no  one  was  to  guess, 
until  they  came  out  of  the  brown  earth,  to 
tell  their  own  story.  Carrie  had  a  valuable 
assistant  in  this  undertaking,  even  her  right- 
hand  man  in  her  geographical  project. 

What  a  pleasure  it  was  to  Mr.  Grant  to 
work  in  his  own  garden  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life.  He  verily  thought  there  was  not 
another  such  an  attractive  spot  in  all  Penn 
sylvania.  When  bank-hours  were  over,  he 
was  soon  busy  among  his  peas  and  corn,  and 
chatting  with  Carrie,  who  was  sure  to  be 
ready  to  meet  him  and  ask  his  advice  as  to 
where  this  trellis  was  to  be  placed,  or  that 
shrub  to  take  up  its  abode  in  its  new  quar 
ters. 


132  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

"  Why,  Carrie,  you  won't  leave  anything 
in  the  old  garden,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  one  day, 
to  his  little  friend.  Carrie  was  bearing  a 
great  rose-bush  in  one  hand,  while  in  the 
other  she  dexterously  balanced  a  root  of 
old-fashioned  pinks. 

Carrie  laughed  as  she  answered, "  Mother 
said  I  might  take  them,  and  she  is  coming 
over  to  tea  this  evening.  Mrs.  Grant  invited 
us,  and  then  she  is  going  to  look  at  my 
flower-bed,  and  see  if  she  don't  like  it.  Fath 
er  is  coming,  too,"  said  Carrie,  sure  of  the 
pleasure  her  information  would  give. 

So  Mrs.  Grant  was  really  at  housekeeping. 
Yes,  the  little  woman  was  in  a  home  of  her 
own,  and  a  very  responsible  condition  she 
considered  it,  and  much  she  needed  a  kind 
adviser  in  the  many  difficulties  that  each 
morning  was  sure  to  bring.  The  young  wife 
would  have  had  on  her  sun-bonnet  a  half  a 
dozen  times  a  day,  to  run  over  to  Mrs.  Ea 
ton's  for  counsel,  but  there  was  one  member 


CONCLUSION.  133 


of  the  family  that  she  could  not  bear  to 
leave  unnecessarily,  even  for  a  half-hour, 
though  Rache  felt  herself  quite  competent 
to  take  her  mistress's  place. 

There  was  a  small,  round  white  face,  with 
dark  eyes  and  a  little  fat  nose  at  which 
Mrs.  Grant  was  particularly  fond  of  looking. 
It  was  not  a  doll,  that  one  thing  that  Mrs. 
Grant  held  so  tenderly  in  her  arms.  No,  it 
was  a  warm,  soft,  pliable  little  object,  and 
somewhere  hidden  by  that  long  white  dress ; 
there  were  some  pretty,  tiny  pink  feet,  that 
Carrie  thought  the  "  darlingest  things  in  the 
world." 

Mrs.  Grant's  baby  was  the  wonder  of  at 
least  four  people,  its  parents  and  Rache  and 
Carrie.  Certainly  that  ought  to  have  been 
enough  to  satisfy  the  vanity  of  any  two 
months7  old  youngster,  just  starting  in  life. 
The  young  mother  evidently  believed  there 
never  had  been  such  a  child  before.  "  So 
winning,  so  knowing,  and  so  wonderfully  like 
12 


134  UXDER   THE   PEAR  TREE. 

his  papa."  Mr.  Grant  was  sure  the  boy 
would  be  a  genius,  his  head  was  of  such  a 
remarkable  form,  and  when  the  little  man 
chose  to  sneeze,  cough  or  shrivel  up  his 
funny  little  nose,  he  was  certain  of  his  fath 
er's  admiration. 

And  Rache,  who  can  tell  what  she  thought 
of  the  baby  !  If  she  really  believed  all  she 
said  to  him,  she  considered  him  the  most 
wonderful  of  natural  objects,  a  kind  of  union 
of  all  the  glories  of  the  three  kingdoms, 
animal,  mineral  and  vegetable — "  a  duck,  a 
pink,  a  diamond,  a  birdie,  a  chick,  a  rose,  a 
plum,  a  man,  a  sugar,"  and  crowning  all,  a 
"  popsy,  dinksy,  deary  0  !  "  Rache  had  some 
body  to  talk  to  now,  who  would  be  pleased 
with  all  her  nonsense,  and  be  ready  to  smile 
at  any  of  the  droll  grimaces  she  delighted 
to  make.  It  had  quite  sobered  the  creature, 
though,  to  have  the  privilege  of  sharing  with 
the  young  mother  the  care  of  this  precious 
child,  and  in  Rache's  daily  prayers  she  never 


CONCLUSION.  135 


forgot  to  ask  that  she  might  "  be  a  good 
girl  to  the  baby  and  never  do  him  no  harm." 
It  was  quite  an  important  affair  for  Mrs. 
Grant  to  have  company  to  tea,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  new  home.  We  are  not  going 
to  betray  the  secret  of  her  attempt  to  make 
some  cake  in  honor  of  the  guests,  and  the 
horrible  "  streak  "  that  made  it  into  three 
cakes,  of  which  the  upper  and  lower  ones 
were  the  only  desirable  portions.  We  need 
not  be  so  private  about  it,  though,  for  all  the 
neighborhood  must  have  seen  Rache  sent  off 
post-haste  to  the  baker's  to  supply  the  defi 
ciency. 

Mrs.  Grant  laughed  over  this  misfortune, 
and  did  not  give  up  in  despair.  She  would 
have  Mrs.  Eaton's  advice  next  time,  no 
doubt  with  better  success.  Mrs.  Eaton  cer 
tainly  ought  to  have  had  a  hand  in  the  cake, 
for  almost  everything  else  on  the  table  was 
linked  with  her.  Those  strawberry  preserves 
she  had  superintended,  and  out  of  her  extra 


136  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 

stock,  filled  the  cupboard  of  her  young 
friend.  That  yellow  butter  was  from  her 
own  dairy,  and  those  thin  slices  of  ham  had 
hung  in  her  "  smoke-house  "  lang-syne.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  for  the  arrangement  of  the 
table  and  the  concocting  of  the  tea  and 
coffee,  Mrs.  Grant  was  alone  responsible  as 
the  housekeeper,  and  in  these  particulars, 
she  had  done  herself  credit. 

A  happy  looking  party  sat  round  that 
same  table,  that  evening.  There  was  a 
pause  ere  they  began  to  partake  of  the  good 
cheer. 

"  Will  you  ask  the  blessing,  Mr.  Eaton  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Grant. 

"  We  ever  feel  that  but  for  you  and  yours, 
we  might  have  been  houseless  wanderers, 
with  no  resting  place  on  earth,  and  no  sure 
hope  of  heaven." 

Deeply  moved,  Mr.  Eaton  implored  the 
blessing  of  God  on  the  circle  gathered  there, 
and  heartfelt  was  his  thanksgiving  for  the 


CONCLUSION.  137 


mercies  vouchsafed  his  young  friends  in  this, 
their  Christian  home. 

We  do  not  purpose  to  dwell  on  the  pleas 
ant  chat  that  enlivened  that  social  visit,  or 
the  wonderful  feats  of  the  baby,  or  the  delight 
of  Carrie  at  hearing  that  he  was  to  bear 
her  father's  name, "  Eaton  Grant."  "  How 
pretty  !  I  wonder  how  it  would  look  writ 
ten  ! "  said  Carrie. 

"  May  it  be  written  in  the  Book  of  Life ! " 
said  Mr.  Eaton,  solemnly. 

When  Carrie  was  safely  in  her  own  little 
bed  that  night,  she  had  a  long,  sweet  talk 
with  her  mother.  They  both  had  much  to 
say  of  the  pleasure  of  their  visit,  and  of 
their  joy  at  seeing  their  friends  so  happy  in 
their  home.  "  Darling,"  said  the  mother, 
bending  down  her  face  to  her  child,  "  when 
we  make  an  effort  to  bear  little  trials  pa 
tiently,  we  do  not  know  what  great  good 
we  may  be  doing.  While  you  were  gone 
up  stairs  with  the  baby,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grant 
12* 


138  UNDER  THE   PEAR  TREE. 


were  thanking  us  for  what  we  had  tried  to 
do  for  them  ;  but  they  both  said  that  their 
first  desires  to  lead  a  Christian  life,  had 
been  prompted  by  seeing  your  efforts  to  take 
cheerfully  whatsoever  the  Lord  Jesus  might 
please  to  send  you  to  do  or  bear."  The 
tears  rushed  to  Carrie's  eyes  ;  "  0,  mamma !  " 
was  all  she  could  say,  as  she  hid  her  face  on 
that  dear  friend's  shoulder. 

Though  the  little  girl  spoke  no  other 
word,  in  the  silence  of  her  heart,  she  poured 
forth  her  gratitude  to  Him  who  had  so 
blessed  her  feeble  strivings  to  do  his  will. 

It  was  the  widow's  mite  that  won  the 
praise  of  the  Lord.  It  may  be,  that  in  his 
eyes  no  great  sacrifices  of  strong-willed 
men,  are  more  precious  than  the  efforts  of 
little  children,  to  bear  cheerfully  the  petty 
trials  sent  them  by  their  Saviour.  Carrie 
had  been  allowed  to  see  the  good  that  has 
sprung  from  the  patient  performance  of 
some  of  the  humble  duties  that  fall  to  the 


CONCLUSION.  139 


share  of  the  lambs  of  the  flock,  but  this  is 
not  always  the  way  in  life. 

We  work,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  dark, 
not  knowing  what  use  our  Lord  will  make 
of  our  labors.  In  heaven's  clear  light,  it 
may  be  given  us  to  see  that  our  small  acts 
of  self-denial,  and  our  faithfulness  in  trifles, 
have  been  indeed,  the  truly  great  actions  of 
our  lives,  even  those  actions  upon  which  has 
fallen  the  peculiar  blessing  of  our  Heavenly 
Father. 


THE  END. 


